Salvo Island. ISR Headquarters

  "Everything is a setup." The spymaster said, crossing the room to a holographic projector table in the middle. She picked up a cigarette carton only to find it empty. She discarded it frustratingly.

  There were other ISR techs in the room manning sensor and control stations. They looked just as stressed and disheveled. The air in the room was as hot as an oven.

  "We've been stuck in here the past 48 hours, locked in. They turned off the A/C and tried to heat the room and kill us with heatstroke. We've been trying to restore system access and bring comms and sensors back online." She told them. Then the corners of her mouth turned upward slightly. "They'll have to try harder than that."

  "What is going on?" Tycho demanded an explanation.

  "We've been betrayed." She told him, then ordered one of the guards. "Bring in one of those frames."

  Two troopers dragged in the Kilo and laid it on the ground in front of everyone. Penny ferociously jammed a knife into the back of the sensor pod and pried open the rear panel, venting her frustration while also setting up her point. She held up the exposed circuitry so all could see. She pointed out a large hidden rod with an antenna.

  "It's a jammer and a receiver. Alternates between the two to target specific frequencies." She told them.

  Aurelian was confused. "Kilos aren't supposed to have that. They're air-gapped. Even their radios are just an audio transmitter and receiver jammed together. Was it hijacked?"

  "Non." Penny answered. "Too sophisticated. This was placed in them during construction. It is integral. We reviewed the design files. All frames were built to accommodate this hardware, BUT only a few of them have it implanted. I estimate 30% of the fleet is compromised. They're what's jamming our comms network. They probably sabotaged the computer system at the same time and somebody gave them the order to."

  Tycho grimaced. "The only person... thing with access to the computer network and the frame designs is..."

  "...Periscope." Aurelian finished.

  "I'm going to tear that fucking A.I apart!" Sierra exclaimed, kicking the frame to emphasize her point.

  Citadel Control Room

  Kincade poked at the mangled frame, so eloquently placed there by Aurelian and Sierra, with the tip of a pen. The shattered remains lay sprawled like a gutted animal. Around him stood the entirety of High Command not currently deployed overseas.

  “Well,” he muttered, “this is certainly the biggest pickle I’ve been in since Dunkirk.”

  He added sourly. “Doesn’t do me much good though, unless ISR’s got a workaround for my communications array.”

  Penny Sierra pressed a finger to the comm bead in her ear. She said something and at that exact moment, the building trembled as if a bomb had gone off nearby. All at once, the control room’s dormant screens flickered to life.

  “ISR has a workaround for everything,” she said, smirking.

  “What did you do?” Tycho asked, his voice strained. He lay nearby, a trauma medic busily stitching his bullet wound closed.

  “We just destroyed the building’s primary phased-array comm antenna. The network is architected with full hierarchical redundancy. If Central Command loses its uplink, an autonomous re-route protocol kicks in, shifting dataflow to the hardened secondary nodes.”

  She gestured to the rebooting consoles. “In this case, that’s the North Island Relay at the top in the mountains and EM-hardened. Slight latency penalty, but it's capable.”

  She paused, letting it sink in. Then: “ISR CYBERCOM division identified that the failure was very precise mechanical sabotage, designed to look like a technical failure. The system OS had been trapped in a logical limbo. The network’s integrity check failed, but because the link hadn’t been physically severed, it didn’t trigger the switchover. The operating system thought the primary was online, even as it choked on corrupted handshakes.”

  Kincade raised an eyebrow. “So it never actually transitioned?”

  “Exactly,” she nodded. “The software kept looping the transition protocol and trying to spin up the secondary while the primary was stuck in a ghost state. Killing the antenna created a clean break. The OS finally recognized the hard failure and executed the fallback subroutine. Systems are now realigning to the mountain node.”

  Everyone stared at her in disbelief.

  She shrugged. “My techs move fast when they lose air conditioning.”

  The Sky-Admiral wasted no time and turned to address the room. He raised his voice so all personnel could hear him.

  “Look alive, ladies and gentlemen! Let’s triage this situation!”

  Washington D.C.

  Chief Weber did not look behind him, below him, or next to him. He only looked straight up. He paid no mind to the battle raging behind with such ferocity, that he would have thought he was on the fields facing the Kursk Salient again. Bullets and shrapnel impacted the concreate walls around him and the frame Chennault as they rappelled up the side of the building, keeping their feet firmly planted to the round stone columns that ascended to the top of the building. The wire and hooks they trusted their lives to held firm to the lip on the roof. Beneath them the chatter of continuous machinegun fire did not wane as the assault troopers fought to keep anyone who targeted them suppressed. It was a losing fight.

  The cultists appeared in greater numbers. At one point, they observed them being dropped off by buses, and these ones came loaded for bear. The lawn that was being torn asunder was supposed to be their LZ. Olsen and Wolf Element were fighting tooth and nail to take it. Quickly working the numbers, Weber estimated they didn't have enough ammunition.

  Chief Weber clenched his teeth as another round of gunfire ricocheted off the limestone column just inches from his shoulder, showering him in concrete splinters. He forced himself to keep moving, one gloved hand over the other as he ascended the final few meters. Chennault, climbing the pillar beside him, moved efficiently, its hydraulics whining faintly under the strain of its vertical ascent.

  "Almost there," Weber grunted. "Be aware of friendlies."

  Chennault surged up the last few meters, reached the top, and vaulted over the ledge like a predatory animal.

  A pair of cultists sprinted from behind the rooftop HVAC units. He dropped one instantly, but the second returned fire. A round grazed his shoulder plate.

  "Contact! Topside!" he warned.

  The big frame charged the second cultist and rammed him with his shoulder. The unfortunate insurgent was sent flying over the side. So much for the roof belonging to friendly forces.

  Weber rolled over the edge a second later, immediately leveling his rifle and sweeping the perimeter. "Roof secure! Moving to the west side!"

  They ran along the roof until they were over the Oval Office. "Preparing to breach!"

  He set the shaped charges in a perfect star pattern. He stepped back, clicked the remote, and called out, "Fire in the hole!"

  The roof shook as the precision blast points shattered inward in a burst of glass and smoke. The hole opened a direct path into the Oval Office.

  Chennault went first. The frame dropped like a meteor, landing hard. Cultists who had breached the interior staggered and shouted at the sudden intrusion.

  Weber dropped in next, rifle barking three times before his boots even touched carpet. The Roosevelt desk had been half-shattered, but the President was alive, shielded behind it. Only one bodyguard agent was left with him.

  "Mr. President! Terra Vanguard. We're here to get you to safety." Weber told him.

  President Constantine poked his head out from behind the desk. "D'cha bring twelve-gauge, son?"

  "I did not. Stay down. We are calling in extraction." Weber told him. He keyed his radio, only to find it not working. He cycled through civilian VHF frequencies but was greeted by a piercing static tone. He was being jammed.

  Just outside the office, the cultists were rallying. His enthusiasm sank as he was now trapped in here with no way to exfiltrate, no communications at all and a failing situation outside.

  "Dig in!" He told Chennault, just as a grenade rolled into the room. Weber swiftly kicked it away from him and the explosive detonated in the doorway, filling the room with white-hot shrapnel.

  A round caught Chennault's sensor pod. The frame recoiled but recovered with a mechanical growl. The frame planted its feet and hosed down the incoming enemy combatants with high-caliber ammunition. A full squad fell under automatic fire.

  "Soldier! You got a trauma kit?!" The surviving Secret Service agent shouted to Weber.

  "Ja!" He slid behind the makeshift barricade to the President, but his hands were swatted away.

  "Not me, help Marty!" Constantine said, and gestured to a wounded man next to him.

  The secretary of agriculture was pale from blood loss. A round had gone clean through his hip. He struggled to keep his head up.

  Chennault reported from beyond the barricade. "Ammunition red. Request resupply."

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Weber threw his HR-15 over while he attended to the secretary. "All I've got buddy! Make it count."

  The Chief multitasked expertly. One hand administered aid, while the other cycled through channels on the radio. He was beginning to get some breakthrough.

  "Any callsign this net, any callsign this net. This is Chief Weber, Kantai Element, Whirlwind Unit. I require immediate assistance. Two-man team pinned down under heavy enemy assault in the Oval Office. Can anyone hear me? Over."

  He received a garbled response. Despite it being completely unintelligible, it filled him with hope. Someone was atleast listening.

  Rounds began pinging off of Chennault, the already battered frame beginning to falter.

  The frame took a direct hit to the sensor pod and Weber received a crystal clear transmission.

  "Brace, brace, brace!"

  The Rifle had no idea what was happening. The room around him shook and the floor gave way. Pinpoint explosions ripped up through the floorboards and the ground gave way beneath them.

  They all fell to the floor below, an underground void.

  Weber landed on his back. The air was driven from his lungs. Above him, the faces of cultists appeared on the floor above. He frantically grabbed for his sidearm but someone had been waiting for them below. A handcannon boomed and the red-clad figures collapsed with perforated skulls.

  Gloved hands reached forth from the darkness and grabbed Weber, pulling him up.

  "On your feet trooper!" Someone said jauntily. He realized it was Chief Novak.

  Vanguard Rifles surrounded them and pulled the President and the wounded from the wreckage.

  Weber looked down at the crumpled Kilo frame. Its legs crushed, Chennault tried to extricate itself from the wreckage. Weber moved to help the machine, but a boot suddenly came down on its back.

  Striker-Commander Federov placed the muzzle of his pistol against the frames back and shot it in the battery compartment.

  Weber lashed out. "What the hell are you doing?!"

  Novak had to hold him back. "Woah, relax Chief."

  "That frame saved lives today!"

  Federov removed the back cover of the sensor pod and revealed the antenna. "He was the one jamming you, RC."

  Weber slacked, the realization of the betrayal setting in.

  White House Media Room

  "Any stations this net, any stations this net, this is Leader-Commander Tambor broadcasting on all Vanguard frequencies. Does anyone read me? I say again, this is Leader-Commander Tambor broadcasting on all Vanguard frequencies. Communications check. Does anyone hear me? Over."

  Everyone heard it on their radios. While Vespera confronted what was apparently an old acquaintance, Perelli quickly sourced a frequency and responded.

  "This is Kantai Element, Ensign Perelli! We're outside the West Wing Media Room. In contact with enemy forces. Demonic entities present. Require immediate assistance. How copy? Over." he frantically shouted into the mic.

  "This is Leader-Commander actual. Copy all. Dropping on your position. ETA six minutes. Hang tight. Over."

  "I don't have have six minutes!" Perelli replied, foregoing comms discipline.

  Claws slashed at him as Demon Svetlana reengaged, enraged by Vespera's accusation that she had been as manipulated as her. He brought up his sword and blocked the flurry of blows in a fast but desperate bid not to get disemboweled. The same invisible force prevented the cutting claws from being able to touch him as long as the sword was in position to block.

  "Could use some help guys!" He called out to his team.

  "I've got nothin' left! Bullets sure as shit ain't doing anything." Milo said, despondently.

  "You need incantations, Latin scripts, to drive out demons and weaken them enough to be struck." Vespera advised.

  "Well say something, dammit!" Kurt yelled at her.

  "Why would I know any? They'd weaken me all the same!" the vampire yelled back. "He needs to channel the angelic energy in that sword!"

  Perelli dodged and rolled across the deck. He swung low at the demon's knees, striking it but doing no damage.

  "How does he do that?" Tora asked.

  Vespera rolled her eyes aggressively. "I'm a fucking vampire! How would I know!?"

  Perelli ducked under a razor-edged swipe that carved a deep trench through the floor behind him.

  “Wouldn't mind having a tank right about now.” Milo shouted, firing short bursts from his rifle, not that it did anything but distract. The bullets flattened against the creature’s carapace or vanished into the creeping aura of the ooze that the demon secreted.

  Suddenly, Svetlana turned her gaze on Milo.

  The temperature dropped. The lights dimmed, then died altogether. Her hand stretched toward him with fingers like obsidian spears. The shadows behind him lengthened—and then reached for him.

  Tora tackled Milo out of the way just in time. Both men hit the ground hard as a shadow tendril snapped where Milo’s chest had been moments before.

  “I am not enjoying this,” Milo groaned, coughing.

  “You people are outmatched. I knew this was a fool's errand.” she said, sourly.

  Perelli planted his feet and leveled the holy sword again. “We just need to hold.”

  Svetlana let out a guttural snarl. Her blackened claws curled, and a low droning hum began to fill the room; the sound of demonic energy pooling. Her tongue lashed across her fangs like a snake scenting prey.

  Her gathering of strength was interrupted by yet another explosion.

  The reinforced doors at the back of the media room exploded inward in a hail of smoke and shrapnel. A half dozen forms stormed through the breach, led by a tall, armor-clad figure wielding a heavy shield.

  Leader-Commander Axton Tambor.

  His voice barked through the noise like thunder. “Engage!” His shield glowed like diamond as Latin script written on the face burned intensely

  His element followed. Precision fire erupted from behind him, peppering the flanks of the demon and forcing it to recoil, not from damage, but from the sudden sensory overload.

  Tambor ordered. “Push her back! Do not stop firing!"

  The team surged forward. Tora and Kurt joined the counteroffensive, coordinating tight angles to keep attention divided. Milo dropped prone, firing in concert with the new arrivals to keep her mobility constrained. The demon snarled again, taking a step back from the intruder's shield, but not before her claws slashed through a soldier’s midsection and sent him flying into a bank of shattered chairs.

  Tambor surged forward like a battering ram, his shield lighting up as he drew closer. The demon lashed out desperately. Svetlana's claws smashed against the shield and bracketed it relentlessly. Tambor's powered armor did not yield. If his armor had not had such reinforcement, he would have folded easily. He remained standing.

  “Ensign,” Tambor growled as he advanced. “Sword. With me.”

  Perelli rushed forward and joined him, the holy sword now a beacon of blinding light in the gloom, amplifying simply by being in the presence of the shield. For a moment, the demon hesitated, real fear perhaps, but then her lips curled into a grin.

  “Another fool. Another flame to extinguish,” she hissed, then lunged.

  Her claws met Tambor’s shield with a clash that sounded like war drums. Perelli countered, sweeping her off her feet but she caught herself in midair, clinging to the ceiling like an insect, before dropping down to swing a claw at Perelli.

  The Ensign raised the blade just in time. It rang out like a bell of judgment, the force of the blow nearly disarming him.

  Tambor moved between them.

  “You cannot stand alone,” he said, forcing her back again. “Stand together.”

  But even their combined might was only buying moments. Svetlana was beginning to adapt. Her hide thickened. Her aura darkened. The runes from the shield were fading, and her pace grew more aggressive with every breath.

  Then—

  The room fell silent, but not from a lack of action. All vibration through the air stopped. Perelli shouted but despite the exhale of air from his lungs, there was no voice.

  Everyone stopped as a bright light shined into the room from above, overtaking every crevice and niche. The ceiling disintegrated but instead of the rubble falling inward, it rose up into the sky, like an inversion of gravity. Piece-by-piece it gave way. What lay beyond was not blue sky, but a bright and relentless light that filled the room.

  A pointed tip emerged from it, at the end was a long wooden spear. It descended like a shooting star, right towards the demon. Almost six feet had emerged from the light before another shape also descended.

  Perelli recognized her.

  An angel in battle armor carried the long spear, hefted in the crook of her arm. She descended with it. Her gold armor reflected the light, her hair flowing with the wind. Her wings outstretched in majestic flight. Despite her warrior attire, they were not the wings of a raptor or any bird of prey. They were pure white and downy, exactly like a dove.

  The tip of her spear homed on the demon. Svetlana raised her hands to stop it, but as soon as they came close, her hands disintegrated like ash. The demon shrieked as the tip pierced her chest.

  As soon as it did, it was silenced. The tip of the spear continued clear through the torso. Where it penetrated, the demonic entity solidified. the black ooze stopped and dried up. It began to turn to salt, spreading out from the center of the wound. The demon was overtaken in seconds, solidifying into a pillar of the material. It ceased to move and became like a statue, its arms outstretched in desperate and futile defiance of its fate. Its face an expression of anguish.

  The Rifles watched, captivated by the sight. They were struck with awe and unable to move.

  The angel landed in front of the demon. She came to a kneel before it and said something in words they could not understand; that they could not comprehend. The demon shattered into a million pieces around her spear.

  She stood and faced them. Her spear shortened to a more manageable length. The ceiling reconstructed itself, the pieces falling back into place. With the last mote of rubble repaired, the light stopped.

  Silence took hold. but not the artificial lack of sound introduced by the angel's arrival. Now everyone stood in awestruck, completely at a loss for words or action.

  The angel regarded Tambor. Despite her ease of defeating the demon, she did not look satisfied or triumphant. Instead, her expression was one of fear and concern. "Something terrible has occurred. The cards are on the table. It is time I explained everything."

  Tambor recovered from his stupor. The angel had never been so direct and that scared him more than anything.

  "You're the one I saw in Texas." Perelli said while popping open his ballistic mask. He recognized the angel as the one who had helped defend his mind from being taken over by the Black Sun.

  "One and the same." She confirmed.

  "What is your name?" Perelli asked her.

  Tambor answered for her. "We call her Checkmate."

  The angel nodded. "My real name induces madness in mortals. 'Checkmate' comes close to its description."

  Perelli's eyes widened. He was aware of the infamous Project Checkmate, but like almost all of the Vanguard, didn't know what it was. He had assumed it was a really big bomb.

  "I created the Terra Vanguard, the portal you call 'Helsing', the one who recruited you from the afterlife and brought you here. That was me." She explained.

  "Helped, create the Vanguard." Tambor corrected. "I was the brains behind the idea."

  The angel frowned at him.

  Tambor suddenly grew less confident.

  She told him solemnly. "I must place all of my own cards on the table."

  Tambor blinked. "What are you talking about. I was the first you brought back, right?"

  The angel proceeded to shatter everything he thought he knew. "I am a seraph. A class of warrior angel... but I am not a warrior. I am closer to what you might refer to as a spy, a saboteur, a spook."

  She leveled her spear at Tambor's chest. Salt began to form on the front of his armor when it neared.

  "You are not human Axton Tambor."

  His worldview shattered into a million pieces.

  The angel explained, "Many years ago. An anomaly was discovered in this world by those in heaven. It was not a design of the creator," Her looked upward momentarily "nor was it a creation of hell, or one of man. A completely alien thing to this plain of existence. At first, we did not know what to make of it. It shattered our own understanding; the understanding of the nature of the universe as all angel-kind saw it."

  The soldiers all glanced at each other, confused, as she explained. What could possibly unnerve and perplex an angel?

  Checkmate continued, "That anomaly was the Black Sun. The vampires call you the Centurion of the Apocalypse," She told Tambor. "because that is what you were."

  "Were?" he said softly.

  "You are not human, nor are you a creation of heaven. You were created as an agent of the Black Sun."

  Everyone's jaw dropped.

  Tambor almost dropped his shield. His limbs went numb. He almost staggered backwards. He felt the hand of Camila on his back, steadying him. Even despite the revelation, his aide stood loyal and undaunted.

  "Key word: 'Were"." Checkmate assured him. "I was sent to eliminate you before you could sow chaos on this planet... but I convinced my superiors otherwise. With several of my kin, we repurposed you. Angels aren't supposed to directly interfere in the affairs of man. That is why there is a price to pay when our power is used. Only in exceptionally grave circumstances can we act directly. Which is why we created you. To serve a better purpose, a righteous purpose. Instead of being mankind's destruction, you would be its savior. And to aid you, we created you an army."

  She then looked to Perelli. "And we would put amongst you the righteous."

  She looked Lieutenant Camila. "The loyal."

  She then met the eyes of every Rifle in the room. "And the brave."

  She refocused on Tambor.

  "So do not fret. You may be of evil origin. But you are NOT of evil destiny."

  Tambor took a shaky breath. He did not know how to process this information. He did the only thing he knew how. "You said there was a crisis? How do we blow it up?"

  Checkmate nodded to Camila to answer her radio. The radio on the Lieutenant's suddenly came to life and she listened intently. A grim expression crossed her face.

  "It's Central, sir. They need to brief you. L.A. has gone dark."