[center][H3][B]U N D E R W O R L D[/B]
[/H3][b]K A T A B A S I S[/b] [hr][hr][sub]Interacting with:[@Silver Fox], [@Dervish], [@MechonRaptor], [@PrivateVentures], [@SgtEasy], [@Arcarius], [@Rithy], [@POOHEAD189], [@Mega birb], [@The Spectre], [@Leos Klien], [@MrDidact], [@Deos Morran], [@Rivaan], [@Vulkan][/sub][hr][hr][/center]

[sub][color=steelblue][b][u]Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson[/u][/b][/color][/sub]

[i]The screeching was the worst part. It was always the screeching. Before [b]London[/b] it really hadn’t bothered him all that much, or at least not as much as it bothered the other guys. Yes, it was inhumane, and eerie, and just plain weird. It had always sounded like jagged nails being dragged across chalkboards being filtered through an autocue. It had always cut right through him. But there had been a time that part of him had been glad to hear that shrieking. Better to know that they were coming ahead, with good time to get ready for them, than to have them sneak up on you, sibilant and unseen. It was a small blessing, but it was a blessing nonetheless, and he’d take any advantage he could get in a fight. Now though? Things had changed. 

Now he knew that those wails weren’t an early warning system at all, but the true cries of the damned. It had taken the fall of London, and the death of his - [/i]

No. Now wasn’t the time for painful reflections, or to wallow in self-pity. There’d be time for that later, when the job was done. Katabasis needed him at his best right now. The people living in the city above needed him even more than Katabasis did. The soldier, he reminded himself, not the man. He ground his teeth, and emptied another clip into the encroaching horde, only dimly aware of an animal-like growling emanating somewhere from the tunnels. Took him a minute to realise that it was coming from him.

Anderson deliberately took up position in the very rear of their small column, taking the brunt of the hordes attack. He was the Spectre here. Way he seen it, that made it his job to take the brunt of the shit. The Piranha was perfectly suited to mowing down clumps of the Husks at a time, and any that did manage to make it through the hell of his, Sicaria’s, and Rol’s crossfire quickly got themselves acquainted with the business end of his omni blade. Still, there were so many of them that it was only a matter of time until one of the desiccated bastards got lucky and managed to taken one of the team down. If Angel and Balak slowed their breakneck pace, even for a second, things were gonna get damn hairy for the group.

Fortunately the two-point men had done this all before, leading the squad on an unerring course through the underground compound. Anderson didn’t get much time to take in the surroundings, too busy keeping the monsters behind them at bay while also steadily giving ground, but he did have time to see the Husks in the mess hall leap off the mezzanine flooring into his huddled squad. He had a moment of indecision, wondering if he should abandoned his own self-ordained post to help those in the middle, but knew that he had to trust his squad, tried and true veterans all, to deal with the problem on their own. If he left his own position, that would allow the horde to potentially surround them and cut them off. 

They continued on, down another hallway and then into a cargo bay, judging by the stack crates, containers, and heavy listing machinery. By the time that Anderson crossed the bay threshold the Husks had already sprung their ambush, and Angel had called the rushed retreat. A good call, though one the Spectre ignored for a moment, laying down some covering fire to give the team time to make good their escape. Rol and Sicaria had almost vacted the room when he began his own exodus, though not before he drew two fragmentation grenades and tossed them behind him, straight into the path of the main horde. 

[color=steelblue][b]“ENJOY, YOU FUCK … ”[/b][/color] He began to yell over his shoulder, before being tackled from his feet by a slavering Cannibal. He hit the ground with a pained oof, the large once-Batarian landing atop him, it’s bulk crushing the air from his lungs. Somehow he managed to get his right hand wrapped around the monsters throat, just about keeping it’s large, gaping, blue-lit mouth groaning inches from his face. Its jaws snapped shut a hairs breath from his nose. A waft of fetid breath and warm saliva washed over him.

The grenades went off, washing Jake in heat and noise and fury, sending Husks and parts of Husks flying in all directions. The last of his squad was out of the compound now, only him and an army of bloody thirsty abominations left within the concrete walls. Things were about as desperate as they’d ever been for the N7 marine, and he had no one to blame but himself. His Piranha had been knocked out of his hands, to where he wasn’t sure, and his omnitool, along with it’s handy-dandy monomolecular blade, was trapped under the Cannibals knee. Pretty soon the rest of the Husks would realise that they’re brother had caught a stupid human, and then he was really gonna be in the shit. With no other weapons to hand, he did the only thing left to him: He used his head. 

With a grunt of effort he forced himself up as far as he could get, and slammed his forehead into the cannibals snout. A terrible idea when dealing with a regular Batarian, due to the fact that you’re more likely to injure yourself on all that heavy bone on the sockets around their eyes, and not much better when confronting a Cannibal, but Anderson was desperate. His gamble paid off, and the monster recoiled, not much, but just enough for him to risk letting the death grip on its throat go so that he could grab for his Carnifex. It was just recovering its wits when he palmed the weapon and put four rounds into its torso. Blue ichor spilled across his chest as the dead-thing slumped against him, though he was quick to roll it off him and clamber to his feet. 

The screeching began to rise in earnest as the horde realised that there was still fresh meat amongst them, but Anderson was already sprinting at full tilt at that point, pushing and shoving his way through the Husks already pursuing his squad out of the exit, relying on speed and momentum to get him through. Thank God that most of the ugly corpses were too stupid to look behind them, too consumed with chasing the escaped Katabasis members, or they’d have the wherewithal to take him down. 

The further he got, the more deeply packed the horde became, until his breakneck pace was slowed to almost a crawl. More and more of the Husks took notice of him, and he was forced to fight for his life again and again, Carnifex shots ringing out and the omniblade swinging clear, electrical-blue blood spraying into the air. They were wearing him down though, clawing at the joints between his armour and his mostly unprotected face. He kept his body flooded with adrenaline, the increased focus and reaction times keeping him in the fight, but barely. They just kept coming. 

[color=steelblue][i]No. I will [b]not[/b] die like this. I [b]will[/b] make you proud, dad.[/i][/color]

He forced himself onwards, leaving a trail of broken and bloodied Husk behind him. He’d never moved so fast in his life, never fought so hard. He ran out of thermals, and without skipping a beat flipped his pistol and used it to bludgeon the demonic shells reaching for him into the dirt. 

The opening was in front of him now, but the horde there was packed wall to wall. With a grim sense of finality, he realised that he was never going to get through that many bodies, not with just an omni-blade and a pistol that had run out of ammo. For a moment, he asked the question: Why? Why here? Why now? What is good about this death?

Then the moment was over, and with a wordless snarl he pushed forwards.

It was at that very same moment that Fortia’s barrier, which had been drained far faster than normal thanks to the Husks ability to discharge electricity capable of shredding shields, shattered, and like the ocean that had managed to force the breakers to crumble into its waves, the horde surged forwards. They threw themselves at Katabasis, snarling and screaming, pouring out of the narrow confines of the tunnel entrance with grim intent. 

Michael, the Cerberus scientist, watched as a pack of husks, led by a Marauder, bore down on Aegon, while more swarmed Phalanx, and realised that this was the best chance he was going to get to make good his escape from the Spectre’s clutches. Grabbing a couple of his fellow scientists and pushing them to their feet, he turned tail and fled down the tunnels. Two of the researchers, one of them the woman that had told Jake about the Husks, stayed where they were, but the others followed the greybeard. The escapees sprinted down the tunnel, hit a fork where several outlaying smaller tunnels joined the main thruway, and split up. 

Anderson, who despite his own fatalistic premonitions, had managed to push his way through the press thanks to the hordes chaotic rush forwards, advanced towards Aegon and the others.

[color=steelblue]“I spotted mines affixed to the walls at the entryway of the compound”[/color] He huffed, blowing like a bellows. [color=steelblue]“Our lines broken, we need to blow’em now!”[/color]

Unbeknownst to Anderson and the Task Force, their position wasn’t as desperate as it seemed. Mere minutes away reinforcements moved to join them. But would the arrive in time to be any use?