The Warfighter, the Storm, and the Moon

Chapter 44: Breach

'Breach'

15-Nov-2030, 2323U

LCDR Percy Jackson, US Navy, Son of Neptune

Legio XII Fulminata (TDY)

Oakland Hills, California, USA

I've been woken up by big-ass bells. I've been woken up by electronic alarms. I've even been woken up by those emergency alert system sounds you only hear in movies, videogames, and in barracks haunted by a jackass who likes fucking with fellow sailors. It was pretty funny seeing the chief petty officer looking confused as hell when Mr. Jackass showed up at morning brief with a black eye. But to Mr. Jackass's credit, he ceased his fuckery after that.

But this... this was absolute torture. It could wake up a son of the god of sleep (what's his name, Hypnosus? Somniferous?). It was bells, electronic alarms, the EAS buzz, gongs, and I'm pretty sure that alarm from Rogue One was in the cacophony too.

This is probably Valdez's doing.

"ALERT, DECUMANIAN GATE!! ALERT, DECUMANIAN GATE!! ALERT, DECUMANIAN GATE!!" a recording of Leo's voice thundered, reverberating throughout the camp. "TO ARMS, DECUMANIAN GATE!! TO ARMS, DECUMANIAN GATE!! TO ARMS, DECUMANIAN GATE!!"

Rattled as a motherfucker, I quickly grabbed my assaulter kit: war belt with sidearm, plate carrier with mags, helmet with NODs, and my 10.5" Noveske, before jamming on some tennis shoes and throwing the door open, stretching out my body the best I could as I jogged out of the Principia (where I was temporarily living in one of its rooms) and made my way outside, where the alarms had only intensified.

"ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!! CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL!! ATTACK, ATTACK, ATTACK!! CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL, CALDECOTT TUNNEL!! ALERT—"

As the super loud recording of Leo's voice continued to blast from hidden speakers throughout the camp (how did he even do that?), I heard an explosion. Then another. Then another.

Fuck.

Muscle memory taking over, I began sprinting like hell towards the gate. The camp, which was significantly larger than it had been twenty years ago, took a little time to sprint through. And while I was in minimal kit, it was still some extra weight. But nearly an agonizing minute of running later, the gate was in my sight, and one of the guard towers right next to the gate had exploded, sending shrapnel and men flying. Two legionaries hit the dirt hard, but I could only run past their unconscious, limp forms.

No medicine in a gunfight.

I shimmied up the ladder of another guard tower—one that was further away from the main gate—sweating despite the chilly November night. When I reached the top, I found a team of artillerymen manning a scorpio, shooting downwards Caldecott Tunnel.

"Sir, we got bad guys comin' through the tunnel!" the short tesserarius said—and it was none other than Napoleon, one of my trusted Minions. "They've set up a barricade shielding their position and appear to have some sort of artillery! They own that chokepoint!"

"Do we have men outside the wall?!" I shouted over the noise.

"Two guys!"

"Are there any other potential targets?"

"Two bridges crossing Little Tiber, one north, one south! Third bridge at Temple Hill! Also that dirt road leading to East Oakland! I've sent runners to call the cavalry, but it's a total shitshow here! They'll be breaking through Decumanian Gate real quick!"