As Matt moved sideways, attempting to outflank the enemy forces, he soon saw the extremists up close. Starkly different from the SOLDIER modern combat equipment, these men and women were equipped with what appeared to be thick plate mail, in the style of the Great Crusades, quite probably reinforced with advanced modern materials. Whilst highly ineffective against bullets, the steel suits proved highly effective against blades, as Matt's boomerang sliced past the armour of one of the soldiers, inflicting little more than a cut. As the man raised what appeared to be a large, crossbow-like contraption, Matt was forced to dodge back into cover, several bolts slamming in rapid succession against the walls, burying their heads in the stone.

Bullets, however, proved a far more effective weapon. Lacking the capability to disperse the concentrated kinetic energy of bullet shots, the plate mail offered only mild resistance to Matt's dual magnums. Moving from cover to cover, he managed to pick off a number, as they turned to face this unexpected assault. It was quite clear that these men were equipped mainly for vampire slaying, using advanced versions of crossbows, and armour more suited against claws than bullets. 

As the snipers open fire, the tanks turn their modified heads, large, circular barrels glowing an ominous orange. With an explosive burst, a funnel of blue flame shoots from the tip, engulfing a sniper spot, the rush of burning napalm and mercury drowning out the screams of those within, as they feebly attempted to climb from the post. Several fell from the outpost, clawing at their clothing, attempting to shake off the horrible flaming material, before finally lying still on the ground.

The second tank unleashed a similar torrent of fiery death, however the third seems to move sideways, functioning as little more than cover, the mysterious series of pipes on it's top remaining nonfunctional. Most likely, this tank had been equipped with some form of fog machine, to create large banks of Holy Vapour. As such, it was no surprise that they wouldn't even attempt to use it against SOLDIER, not knowing of the two Elite Vampires that stood at the entrance to the base.

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'I extended the hand of friendship, and you heretics replied with fire! Truly, this pathetic organization has lost itself in corruption, lost to the Devil's whims. If I must, I shall cleanse this ground with the blood of the fallen.' As he speaks, Kami no Kage moves, shifting his body mere inches, as a loud bang echoes through the air. Mithias blinks, as he notices the bullet hole appearing in the ground. Again, the warrior shifts mere inches, and again, a bullet passes through the air. Two knives shoot from the figure's legs into his hand, each containing a core of wood to act as a stake, and he throws them with a power even a vampire would find hard to match, the magnets in his hands functioning as a form of velocity-boosting railgun.

High above, on the roofs, two snipers are struck down, a blade lodging itself in their chests. The blade slices through bone like butter, only the crucifix-shaped hilt preventing it from going right through them. The tip had quite cleanly struck the centre of their hearts, perfectly aligned.

Without a moment's hesitation, Kami no Kage dashes forward, moving mere inches to dodge the shots aimed at it, bullets passing through the air mere millimetres from his armour. His blade, Muramasa, shoots into his hand, as Mithias finds himself staring directly into the black visored helmet. In mere seconds, the man had crossed a distance of one hundred meters, a frightening pace for any being, especially one waving a very, very sharp sword.

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The people of Kilo Point screamed and hid, children crying, as a wave of soldiers closed in on the military complex at the town's edge. Bullets flew through the air, replied to with series of rapid-firing crossbow bolts. However, SOLDIER was vastly outnumbered, their only advantage being the abundance of anti-vampire weaponry wielded by their enemy. And yet, the two tanks capable of firing were burning down entire streaks of land, forming barriers of flame that did not seem to go out. Purge zealots seemingly lethally wounded fought on, infecting themselves with special combat drugs to keep moving even after their body should have stopped functioning. Caring nothing for their own lives, they fought like maniacs.

In the background, a choir seemed to be singing, barely audible above the rushing flames, and streaks of gunfire. It was a symphony of war, and to it's beat, the Purge marched forward, ready to die for their beliefs.