Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War by Ray O'Neil

movement. “Anything’s better than sitting here like a turd and letting you guys have all of the fun.”
    “I’m starting to think those bells weren’t a warning sign for back up,” Jackson realized out loud. “You know what that means?”
    “It means this place is going to burn down if we don’t get moving.”
    Jackson got out of cover. “It’s go time, then.”
    Making their way down the hall, they retraced their steps back to the fire pit. As they drew near the main church area, they could hear shouting and joyful praise, as well as another sound. Taking cover around the corners to come out from both sides of the hall, blood splattered across the floor towards them — a larger quantity than they were used to seeing. Giving each other a look of concern, they then nodded, agreeing to attack. Coming out of hiding and shooting at anything that moves, their gunfire soon stopped at what they saw.
    Parker’s body parts were all over the place, the armor of his chest split in half from the side and hanging on top of his bent-up machine gun. Cultist entered the fire, diving right into it head first; some letting out a loud blast from the gasoline can they were carrying. The ones who weren’t as drugged out were able to notice the Niflheim near the fire, running up to it to bow down to it. Any of the slaves injected with Sutt honed in on the alien right away, taking their owners with them. Shoving meat into its mouth, it looked down by its feet to see the crowd gathering before it.
    “Take me to paradise!”
    “Our savior has awaken!”
    “Please, take me!”
    Grabbing at the Niflheim’s legs blindly, they were quickly torn to shreds by the Wotan’s powerful claws and forearm-spikes. Bodies dropped left and right as the Niflheim took out whoever wasn’t heading towards the fire already. A few of them were shot by the gunfire, but none of them cared. All they wanted was to be “saved” by their savior. Being blessed by the Niflheim was what their ritual was all about.
    “Save me! Save me !”
    The slave’s head turned into a pool of blood as it was slammed into the ground by a massive blue fist, the Wotan biting off her arm. It had plenty to eat as the remaining few cultist hurried into the building. And as it devoured, its spikes grew. Extending two of them out near its wrist, Rasvelg were sliced down even fast. The Wotan moved its way in front of the fire, trampling over some that were still alive.
     
    Hauser’s location was still unknown to the Rasvelg, but there was little he could do from where he was. He shot off his fifteen round magazine faster than ever, taking as many out in quick succession as he could. Still, it wasn’t enough. More came in from the other buildings nearby, running through the streets like a sick and twisted marathon. Crossing his scope by the church, his directional microphone picked up a sound that made his heart drop.
    An otherworldly battlecry, one that he’s heard before.
    “... a Niflheim.”
    “There’s a Wotan in here,” Jackson whispered into his mic. “Nobody mentioned a Wotan was going to be here. We’re not equipped for this, man.”
    “I’m all out of black holes,” Spencer added. “What the hell are we going to do?”
    Mitchell didn’t have any more targets in front of him, his back against the brick. “Looks like we’re going to have to wait it out. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage.”
    Sniffing the air, the Wotan could smell spent gunpowder coming from the hall leading to the school area. Ripping off the last cultist’s leg and tossing it aside like it was nothing, it turned around. The cultist cheered happily as he bled out, the drugs keeping him in ecstasy during his final moments. Leaping over the fire, the Wotan crashed down, letting out another battlecry. Hearing nothing but heavy footsteps, Spencer popped his head out to see what was going on.
    His head flew off with a single punch, the helmet rolling down the hallway and leaving a trail