The continuation of My series "Sic Semper Tyrannis" This time detaialing the tail end of the siege of the Planetary capital and spaceport: Tanith Magna.

Can you say city fight? Here you'll see some familiar faces and some new ones too, and as always that gritty high paced in-your-face action the Ghost's series is known for, with my own twists thrown in of course.

Author's note: I do not own Gaunt's Ghosts, Black Library, Games Workshop or anything displayed or reffered to in this work, they are all the properties of their respective owners.

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Two weeks earlier...

Through the narrow tube he could see the figure lurking on the other side of murky treeline. Slowly, very slowly, painfully slowly, the silhouette of the figure crawled through muddy craters, and over piles of flooded rubble, the man crept as carefully as he could. He thought he was being sneaky,

he thought he was safe...

but the fact was that he had been tracked ever since he came out of the treeline beyond the besieged city of Tanith Magna.

Today it was overcast, and rain fell heavily to the ground dropping visibility greatly. Through his scope, he could just make out the cultist scout reaching the building line of the town and ducking out of sight. The figure poked his head out of the window of the building he had managed to crawl into. He gazed out into the outhabs of the great walled city, he gazed up at the many ancient stone towers and temple spires that rose above him while he was at ground level. His hand went up to his ear to activate his micro bead, probably to signal an all clear to his comrades.

'This guy thinks noooobody can see him' thought Syd Harlow as he gingerly lined up his long, fat scope on the cultist, he could just make out the cultist's red head scarf and dark eyes through the mist kicked up by the rain.

'Well its about to be his last thought.' Harlow smiled at the notion, his breathing slowed to a snails pace, his heart's usual tattoo of beats came to almost a complete standstill, just like he had trained himself to do. He slowly closed his left eye and in one smooth action, he squeezed the trigger of his long, large calibre hunting rifle. The crack was loud, the recoil harsh, but lessened by the absorbers built into the nalwood stock of the rifle. About six stories below him and about seven hundred and thirty meters southeast of his position, the cultist had just began to whisper in his gutteral language into the micro bead when he saw the tiny flash of light from the window near the top of the tower.

He didnt live to hear the crack of the rifle echo over the plane below. His head, brain, and skull, exploded violently back and outwards from him as if someone had struck a ripe melon with a sledgehammer. The blood, brain matter and bone fragments splattered the wall behind him in a random pattern of gore as the seventy five calibre armor piercing stub round cleared his brainpan and struck the back wall of the building, cratering it and making a hole into the rain outside the size of a man's palm. The cultist's headless body tumbled backwards without another movement and all was silent again except for the patter of rain. Harlow saw this all through his rifle's scope. He sat up and smiled a wicked smile of triumph.

Syd Harlow was a tall man, in his late twenties, his long, brown unkempt mane came down to his shoulders. Like almost all of the Tanith he had blue tatoos which denoted his clan or family; a spider web-like spiral tattoo was splayed around his left cheek. The men of the Tanith first regiment often gawked at how young many of the men in the militia like him were.

'Like they've never seen a kid fight' Harlow thought darkly.'

Harlow knew a thing or two about how to fight and even more about how to hunt. He was from the Nals outside of Tanith Dale after all. Early on his dad had taught him how to hunt, how to kill from a distance, how to kill from just an arm's length away without even being noticed. Harlow knew his skills and damn anyone else who doubted them, he was a sharpshooter first and foremost, drafted into the militia when the call went out for volunteers when it was learned that the archenemy was coming to their planet. Harlow frowned at the thought, wide scars he had across his nose and right cheek crinkled some and ached slightly from the contortion.

Harlow had recieved those in an especially fierce hunt where he was ambushed by an especially pissed off nal wolf. Harlow rubbed his scars, he didnt think them damning, he liked them, they made him look older, meaner.

"Nice shot Eagle six , I saw that from here."

'Speaking of old, there's the old geeser himself.' thought Harlow cockily.

Harlow racked the bolt of his large rifle back and emptied the chamber of the massive spent shell, The rifle was his, like it had been his father's before him, he brought it with him from his home where he used to be a Frontiersman; keeping to the remote places of the area and reaping the rewards of living off the land. He took a lho stick out of his pocket and lit it in his cupped hands before answering.

"Yeah, wasnt as hard as you'd think" Harlow said over the mic, almost bored.

"You know the drill, six, relocate before they get a fix..."

The rest Harlow blocked out, more nagging, he thought. Harlow took his sweet time getting his rifle up and climbing the stairs of the watch tower to his next postion, he set up his rifle, setting the bipod just right. he fixed his scope and adjusted for the range he was looking for, He racked another bullet into the chamber and checked the internal magazine. Only when he had evreything the way he wanted it did he say "alright I'm good, old man" Harlow said mockingly, the response was swift

"Hey, protocol is code words, you hear me six? dont start fethin around."

"Alright Larks, dont get that messed up head of yours in a fix." Harlow mocked again

"I said-forget it...damn militia think they own the city" He heard Larkin mutter over the vox. Harlow chuckled to himself.

"How many does that make today five? six?" He asked

"Seven, learn to count you feth head" Came another more sinister voice

"I dont remember asking you, Captain" Harlow responded, testing his limits.

"Oh yeah? I dont remember telling you to shut it before I come up there and stick my silver in your-"

He was cut off by a louder and huskier voice "Alright enough! Both of you! Quit actin like damn toddlers and act like the fethin archenemy is here in force!"

"Yes Major..." Came both Harlow's and the Captain's voice at the same time. 'Seven scouts' Harlow thought to himself 'They must be planning something.'

Harlow pulled off his brown, leather, wide brimmed frontier hat, it wasnt militia protocol to wear hats like that but then again the militia needed sharshooters so Harlow usually got slack in some areas. Harlow rubbed the back of his fingerless gloved hand across his brow and replaced his hat. He snuggled up the scope's eyepiece and gazed back out at the surrounding gloom. The outhab town laid before him was bare and grey, the rain that spluttered into the streets did nothing to repair the area's dreariness. Harlow stifled a yawn, he had been on watch since dawn and it was now late in the afternoon. The rain made his countenance no livelier and he had to keep shaking himself awake to keep from dozing off. The chatter in his ear was a dull buzz and his eyes heavily drooped as he tried his best to keep them open.

Something got him to open his eyes quickly as he suddenly registered a flash of light on the edge of a treeline.

He had seen that kind of flash before, it was the flash only made by a scope in the sudden light of the broken clouds.

With lightning reflexes Harlow lunged to one side, not a half a second later a large crater was plowed into the back wall where his head and rifle had been. the crack of the rifle came next and Harlow rolled to his feet in the hall of the tower he was in. Astonished at the events that had just taken place he was unable to move but began to shake. the lho stick in his mouth dropped to the ground as his jaw dropped from suprise. Suddenly he was aware of a voice yelling into his earpiece

"Eagle Six! Eagle Six are you there? Respond Eagle Six!"

"Yeah I'm here." said Harlow shakily.

"Feth kid you gave me a Fethin cardiac there! Some Fether's got your scent relocate now!"

"Standby" was all Harlow could force out of his mouth.

He went over to the crater in the wall and something caught his eye, he used his fingers and pulled it out of the wall. It was the crumpled form of a silver slug round about the size and shape of his own and it had nearly taken his head off. Harlow shoved it into his pocket and picked up his rifle, he fished out his binoculars and gazed into the treeline, he could just make out a flash of movemnet, a ghost of a silhouette among the trees before it disappeared. Harlow watched for a minute more until Larkin got back into his ear

"Eagle six, are you repostioned yet?" Harlow lowered his binoculars slowly, reluctant to take his eyes off the treeline, and moved down the stairs to his next position.

"Yeah I'm on my way" he said embarrassed.

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Already he was making his way through the trees back to the base camp. His thoughts were dark as he contemplated the task before him. He had to be back in time for the main assault planned for tonight. Rothgar smiled as he rememberd the fear in the other marksman's eyes when his shot had struck home. His gleaming white teeth were set in rows of sharp points and his face and skin was ritually scarred. His black robes and red head scarf denoted him as one of the archenemy, but he was no ordinary cultist. He had been chosen by the powers he served to be a sniper in the name of the dark ones. Rothgar patted his rifle ruefully as he made his way through the damnable conifers. He would rejoice when this world burned in the fires of the warp. His challenge earlier had been abrupt and conclusive. "I come for you, currs of the False Emperor." Rothgar's smile widened. He loved the thrill of the hunt and he wouldnt stop until his darkly divine task was completed...

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Harlow had made it to the bottom floor of the outown's watch tower, he stopped before he went out onto the road to cross to his next vantage point.

'What if that sniper is out there still? Looking for me? Waiting for another shot?' Harlow pondered suddenly, he poked his head out of the entrance just far enough to see the treeline with his right eye. He jerked back suddenly, sure that a bullet would tear his head off as soon as he stepped out of cover.

'Feth!' he thought 'Is this what being pinned by a sniper is like? I almost feel sorry for those cultist bastards.'

Harlow activated his mic and spoke into it.

"Hey, Eagle One, you gotta fix on that bogey in the woods that took a crack at me?" There was a slight pause.

"Negative, no movement after he left, your just gonna have to take your chances, six, use your training, use stealth, be quiet, keep low, be the fethin sniper your supposed to be!"

Harlow snarled back into the mic "Alright, alright, feth, I didnt ask to be lectured!"

Harlow let it drop and took one last peak around the corner of the exit. He put his back to the inner wall of the tower and his right hand reflextively came up to something around his neck. It was a silver aquila symbol on a chain, he held it tight, closed his eyes and recited one of the many prayers he had memorized.

"Oh Father who sits on the Throne, lead me through the valley of darkness and death to the eternal light of salvation..." He whispered just audibly, when he was done, he opened his eyes and almost before he even knew what he was doing he was crouch sprinting to the other side of the street.

What felt like hours were actually seconds, Harlow was tempted to jump for the cover of the buildings on the other side, but instead he slid feet first and hugged the wall tight. When he realized that he was still in one piece, he breathed again.

'Feth that was some scary shit!' he thought darkly, 'Well, at least its over...' Harlow trailed his thoughts off as he went in search of a new hiding spot.

He ducked through back alleys, down ditches, through crawl spaces, 'Cat an mouse now' Harlow summarized.

He went through many buildings, most had been cleaned out in a hurry, some had been ransacked, and all had sustained damage of some sort. Harlow felt his lip curl, he detested what had come to his planet, he would fight until his dying breath to ensure that the invaders didnt get what they wanted on his home world. Harlow finally found a suitable structure: a still intact water tower, not many high place were left intact in the outowns around Tanith Magna, the heavy shelling of the current siege had seen those off.

'Not all of em' Harlow mused 'Just means I gotta be more careful.'

Harlow eventually climbed to the very top of the tower, he dragged his belly across it like some desert reptile and began the process of setting up his rifle when his mic squawked. "All callsigns be adivsed, long range auspex has picked up massed numbers approaching the southern half of the city just beyond the treeline."

Harlow now noticed the sound of machinery: tanks, tracks, engines, and rumbling coming from south, it was faint but it was there.

'No more than a few clicks out, and there has to a feth of a lot of em too.' Harlow felt his body shiver 'This is the big push command has been talking about eh? Well, its about fethin time.'

Harlow's thoughts began to trail off again as he fine tuned his rifle's scope and began to set way markers with his scope's rangefinder. The voice of the Major came over the comms next;

"Alright lads, this is it, the moment we've all come here for, lock and load, and remember your engagment orders: dont fire until you see the whites of their eyes!"

From all over the south side of the outowns affirmation calls came back down the comm, when the airways were finally clear, Larkin finally spoke up.

"All Eagle units sound off and confirm standby."

Quickly and in concert the calls filtered back.

"Eagle two, here and ready!" That was Rilke,

"Eagle Three, prepped for launch!" came Raess' voice.

"Four, here, standby" Mertt,

"Five, good to go!" That was Harlow's buddy Mkalister, they had both come from Tanith Dale with the rest of the militia units.

Finally, it was Harlow's turn "Six, lets get this over with!" Harlow barked, there was a pause over the mic and then:

"Alright, all Eagle units, as of now the muzzles are off, you are cleared to shoot anything moving beyond the five hundred meter mark."

Harlow could feel his scars on his face crinkle as he grinned, the gloves were coming off and there would be no remorse...

Harlow made a few more minor adjustments to his rifle, draped his camo cloak just right over his exposed body and snuggled, once again, to his scope. The rubber of the scope's eyepiece was reassuring and light, his eye probed the inside of the scope and he looked down onto the fields before the city and could make out the treeline. Darkness was falling, if the enemy didnt attack soon, Harlow would have to switch to night vision, and that took the fun out of his job.

"Come into my web, the spider said to the fly..." Harlow whispered to himself, reciting the old children's fable.

He panned his scope into his intended target area. A wide thoroughfare lay before him, a main highway which led to one of the handful of main gates for the walled city of Tanith Magna; Tanith's capital and main spaceport. The highway was wide, big enough for at least five tanks to stride it abreast, each side was covered with low stone buildings, the highway had craters pounded into it by the besieging guns, more obstacles the archenemy had made for themselves. The challenge of covering such a large, copious space was lessened by the fact that Harlow wasnt the only one who was watching it. There were two of these highways on the south side of the city, each one was covered by at least three snipers and three companies of Ghosts and militia each. Harlow continued to gaze down at the thoroughfare. Not a soul could be seen, even with his powerful scope, but this didnt concern Harlow in the least, he knew each and every Ghost was right where they should be.

Normally, guard protocol was to set up static defences and entrenchments and fight an invading force evrey step of the way until it was weak enough to counter assault. Tanith's commanders had thrown that plan out the window and now every Ghost was positioned int any dark crevice they could find, waiting until the archenemy fully committed before springing the trap. This had gone on for the better part of a week, the Tanith continually switching positions, finding new holes, going back to old ones, each time the company dispositions were distributed throughout the buildings and alleys to ambush the enemy from new angles. But this was different, tonight the enemy massed in much larger force than they had earlier that week, the enemy outnumbered the Tanith heavily but the Tanith would fight with evrey last drop of blood and sweat to keep their homes.

Each time before had only been a test of the defences, now the main assault was beginning, command knew it, every Ghost knew it, Harlow knew it, it had to be coming any day now.

'And it looks like that day is today' Harlow mused keeping his eye trained to his scope.

They had actually been lucky, Harlow knew that too. An elaborate ruse, a great risk had been played in the opening stages of the siege. The commanders of the Tanith forces knew that certain doom awaited the forces the planet could muster. That was a fact no matter how anyone tried to spin it, the enemy was too numerous to have any hope of standing against them. This is where "The Gambit" had come in, that was what many Ghosts now called it. It involved tricking the archenemy into thinking that the main Tanith forces were still in the middle of founding and vulnerable at muster point when they arrived in the system. Fake radio traffic, fake troop movements, fake encampments, fake everything-a-regular-army-does was put up like some big party trick on the founding fields while most of the Tanith forces began to dig in around the hives in secret. A small force, led by a junior Tanith officer, was left near the founding fields to intercept and ambush the landing enemy forces IF they landed at the founding fields and took the bait. That was a big if as far as Harlow was concerned, he wouldnt have taken a risk like that. But it worked, the enemy landed on the founding fields in force and spread out to take out, what they supposed, was most of Tanith's military in one fell swoop.

What followed was the most one sided slaughter of archenemy troops the system had ever seen. In a course of three nights, the small force of Tanith guard who had been left behind had pinned the archenemy in the valley of the founding and had harried them every step of the way. Needless to say, the Tanith didnt stop them, there were just too many archenemy cultists landing to kill them all or rout them. Instead the small force focussed on harrying the invaders all the way back to Tanith's main cities, and by then they had carved a huge chunk of troops out of soldiers out of the invaders.

'Lets just hope it was enough' Harlow thought, 'Those hard fethers made an opening, and now its our turn to stick the silver into it.'

Harlow was fidgety, he could hear the machinations of an advancing army just beyond the treeline yet he couldnt make much out on his scope. He decided, at last, to have a smoke to calm himself. He reached into his trouser pocet and pulled out a lho stick and a lighter. His hands shook slightly as he placed the stick in his mouth and cupped his hands around the end as he light it. He put the lighter back in his pocket and began to take a draught. When he was about halfway through, just beginnig to breathe slower than he had a minute ago, all fething hell broke loose in the outown. It came slowly at first, the 'crump crump' of distant mortars firing could barely be heard over the dull roar of the machines advancing in the treeline. Their detonations were much, much louder, many falling into the roofs of buildings around the outown, blasting evreythin for ten meters apart in a hail of stones and wood. Next came the duller 'Punk Punk' of bigger field artillery which could be heard clearly. Now the Ghosts well and truly ducked and covered, the artillery shells blew houses to dust and rubble causing the town for blocks around to be pelted in the upturned debris of the now non existent buildings. A few of the towers that still stood came down in a tumbling boom of collapsing rubble. Harlow coverd his head as the tower he had been in earlier that afternoon was brought down explosively by two artillery shells a few blocks away. Dust now filtered from the many great disturnbances of the night, light flashed thunder rolled, and the Ghosts held on. Somewhere, Harlow noticed through the ringing in his ears, had blown a whistle.

In a few seconds, he realised that it was not one but thousands of shrilling, high pitched whistles had gone off at exactly the same moment from the direction of the treeline surrounding the city.

This, however, wasnt the reason for any of the Ghosts discomfort, what came next was the howl of every invading throat on the planet. Millions of voices screaming out oaths to their dark powers. Drums beat, men wailed, Harlow began to shake, more nervous than he had ever been, he leaned over the edge of his perch as he felt his bowels go loose and retched out what had been breakfast about eight hours before. Weakly, he wiped his mouth and face and sneered at himself for his weakness. Harlow's hand brushed something around his neck, it was his silver aquila necklace. With it in his hand he forced himself to calm and began to recite one of the "Psalms of Victory":

"Oh Father who sits on the Throne, lead me through the valley of darkness and death to the eternal light of salvation..."

As he began, he shakily but surely regained control of his nerves and relined his scope onto the fields just ahead of the treeline. Just as he did this, an image of his worst nightmares spawned out of the beloved Nals.

Dozens, hundreds, thousands, of cultists streamed out of the treeline all charging forward with their rifles outstretched, bayonets fixed. All screamed their oaths and their blasphemies. Some carried not weapons, but banners, streaming sinisterly like snakes in flight, whipping in the wind and displaying the baneful marks of Chaos across them. Behind the charging mass of insanity came the armor, tracks rolled and engines revved madly as tanks plowed ahead crossing the distance almost as rapidly as the foot troops. Halftracks and other transports of all sizes came next, bringing in mechanized infantry to support the armor pieces ahead. All the while this was happening the bombardment of the mortars and artillery continued, although it was now joined by the Tanith's heavy guns. Everything from field guns to a few heavy artillery pices, to heavy and light mortars along with the city's wall guns lit the encroaching night into bright-as-noon day. The toll that was reaped was horrendous, hundreds of cultsits died in the inital sprint for the outskirts of the city, huge swathes of cultists simply ceased to exist as they blindly ran into the waiting Tanith guns. disembowelled body parts flew around the freshly dug craters like confetti at a celebration. The parts, the blood, and the viscera rained down in a red mist onto the heads of their comrades who only seemed to get more agitated. A few of the artillery hits got lucky and Harlow could make out several blooms of fire and black smoke that signalled the end to dozens of armored vehicles. The mass of filth and guns continued to roll on, however, almost unaffected to the ravages that the heavy guns were doing to it. The mass of cultists and tanks continued to stream out of the treeline like an endless wave of death. There was no stopping numbers like that, they would have to be stopped in the streets and suburbs just like they had been before.

'But how long can we hold against...THAT?' Harlow pondered watching the conglomeration of ants surge toward the city.

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The shells fell all around him but he did not fear it. He continued to make his way from one pice of cover to another. His task was close now, just beyound the outskirts of the town he would do his duty to the gods and to the Archon. Rothgar smiled, his shark's teeth gleaming in the night. Making it to the outskirts, Rothgar scoped in and calibrated his instruments. He found a target in a window not three hundred meters away and used this shot to measure his calibrations.

The Ghost's head came apart in a mist of red and his comrades recoiled and took cover.

'Ah the wonderous work of a marksman, one shot and the entire city ducks.' Thought Rothgar as he crouched low and began to make his way forward ahead of the advancing forces.

He snuck into the city a way no Ghost would expect. They were fixed onto the raging mass of cultist's advancing down the main pathways.

'The perfect diversion' Rothgar mused as he made his way deeper into the outown unnoticed.

The task would be completed, the prey would be killed...

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The front vanguard of the invading force hit the outskirts of the outown. They began to find cover wherever it was left. Harlow could see the congregating masses in his scope but he didnt dare shoot now no matter how much he wanted to. He had to wait for the cultists to come into the killzone, and that, Harlow noticed, was only about a hundred meters from his position, beyond that only about seven hundred and fifty meters seperated Harlow and the great host. As the armor approached the outskirts of the city and the heavy guns began to wail, the cultists began to form up into a formation. Apparently, they ahd learned from their past mistakes and were now taking the assault of the city seriously. With a few barked commands from some officers, the cultists and armor began to advance down the wide thoroughfares. Harlow began to mark targets as the mass of enemy advanced toward him. He found his first target, an officer with a power fist strode on top of an advancing tank. He stood on the turret with his power glove pointing toward the city, a banner with the sigils of Chaos marking it was clutched in his enclosed left fist.

It must have been an inspiring site, but the cultists wouldnt know that for long...

Harlow lined up on the moving tank, specifically its clinging parasite on the turret. He waited a few seconds more, the tank had not entered the killzone yet, the moment it did was stretched and slowed to make it seem almost like time had stopped.

Harlow held his breath, slowed his heartbeat, and began to squeeze the trigger.

"You are my shelter..." He whispered as he squeezed the trigger.

The officer's head exploded in a red mist of brain and bone, his limp body convulsed and fell from the top of the tank, dragging the banner to the ground with it. Suddenly, the crack of Harlow's rifle wasnt the only sound assauliting the invaders. Heavy bolters and autocannons began to spit death into the advancing forces. bright blue las shots whizzed out of windows toppling more of the enemy. Precise volley fire from five other snipers began to pelt down on the heads of the invaders. Grenades were lobbed into the advancing mass. Cultists fell, faces, stomachs, chests, legs, and arms blown way by the munitions thrown at them. Still they came on, a tide of unstoppable death come to claim its victim. Harlow could hear voices blaring on the mic and tried his best to ignore the shouts of his comrades as they plowed into the enemy. Harlow tracked another charging officer with a bolt pistol, rallying his troops to advance.

"My everlasting joy and peace..." Harlow continued to recite as he blew the second officer to whatever devil it worshipped.

The night had become frenzied with flashes of light, the boom of cannons, and the cries of death. the tanks of the enemy began to lob their shells at the defenses, many hit the Ghosts heavy weapons which ceased to fire. The tanks and men continued to advance almost as if unhindered. Harlow zoned in on a tank commander who had stupidly poked his head out of the top hatch.

"By your grace my victory is won..."

He whispered as he sent the incompetent commander into the oblivion. The cultists had advanced about two hunderd meters down the thoroughfare and the Ghost's fire continued to cut huge swathes out of the enemy. Just then a tank on the thoroughfare exploded violently, leering to the side of the highway, it splutted and died, its occupants jumping out on fire from head to toe and fell onto the ground. Harlow wondered if it had been hit by another artillery shell when he remembered the mines. The Ghosts had placed a huge number of mines on the thouroufares, both anti tank and anti personell. Just as he was thinking this, more hidden munitions went off under the cultist's feet. Cultists were blown into the air, more vehicles exploded as they ran headlong into the city, disappering in smoke and blood mist. Soon, the thoroughfare was clogged with bodies and burning tank chassis. Here the cutists faltered, most began to hunker down behind whatever cover they could find and finally began to return fire.

Some charged on, too maddened by their blood lust to stop, and were cut down mercilessly by the Ghosts vengeful fire.

Some were so awed and disheartened by the display of firepower before them, they dropped their weapons and ran and were then cut down mercilessly by their own troops.

The officers were doing thir best to rally the stagnated force into advancing. Harlow and the sharpshooters were doing their best to keep the officer from doing their best. Already Harlow had lost count of how many officers he had killed who were waving their arms frantically or beating their nearest insubordiantae, trying desperately to continue the advance. More armor moved in behind the stagnated infantry and, with dozer plows lowered charged on, pushing bodies and hulls alike out of the way in a mad bid to continue the slaughter. At this point Harlow quit being selective over targets and shot any person who came into his crosshairs. He counted the number of kills in his head between recitals:

"Fifty eight...Give me the strength to topple my enemies...fifty nine...the power to crush my foes...sixty..."

Suddenly someone was screaming about a sniper over the mic, Harlow listened intently as someone blared on about how a sniper had taken out his sergeant and pinned his squad down. Harlow frantically searched the fields for any sign of an enemy marksmen but found none. Frustrated, he returned to volleying shots at the oncoming mass. The cultsists, despite their losses, had advanced more than five hundred meters into the thoroughfare and the city. Charging forward again, the cultists began to randomly fire off their rifles as they came forward. Harlow noticed that the cultist forces were dispersing some now. Teams moved through the smaller streets an backalleys, sent to seek out and destroy the defenders. Harlow continued to volley fire onto the cultist's heads, at this range it was impossible to miss something in the screaming masses. Suddnely a shot wound past his head, instinctively Harlow ducked as more whizzed past.

The enemy had found his hiding spot and were volleying rifle fire into his perch. Harlow knew he had to act fast if he was going to live, pretty soon they would lob more than rifle fire to him. He scrambled toward the exit and keyed his mic.

"Eagle one, Eagle one! this is six, they got my position! Moving to my next position!"

There was a pause and then

"Negative six! Fall back to phase line bravo, the frontline is about to pull back or its going to be outflanked."

Harlow continued to race down the ladder to the ground, he thought about what Larkin ordered. The Ghosts were falling back to strengthen their defense which seemed like a good idea right about now to Harlow. He dropped the last few feet and began to sprint, slinging his rifle over one shoulder and crouching low. Just as he crossed the street, he could hear the crash of metal and stone and looked back. The enemy had lobbed tank shells into his perch and sent it toppling over into the ground. Harlow shook...

that could have been him...

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Rothgar watched as the marksman fumbled his way off the tower, through his rifle's scope he could make out the fear on his face and smiled. He yearned test his skill against this man who had killed so many of his comrades. He watched as the figure hit the ground and dissappeared out of sight. The task was upon him and he would do it, by this time tomorrow his forces would rejoice over the remains of the ruined city. Rothgar smiled and crept to find another firing point...