Two Hours Past MidnightStanding there, waiting, was possibly the worst thing about this. It was pitch black for the most part, though they could see the city off in the horizon. The men had all been told to sleep during the day, with some outlanders being tasked to guard the front for them during that time. Now, they were just waiting for the signal to launch the attack. The beginning of a rolling thunder started far behind them, artillery from the Divinians. The men watched the shiny lights off in the distance suddenly start to multiply.
For the next two hours, incendiary shells rained down on the city on the lake. If you strained your ears a bit, you could barely hear the sounds of screams off in the distance. The odd shell blew up something useful sounding hear or there, with the odd plume of fire reaching way up into the sky for all to see. Finally, the men were told to mount up on the boats that had been prepared and set off to conquer the city. The shelling was expected to stop before they arrived there, but if not, they were to just wait a bit off from the island and signal back.
As the boats approached the city, they could make out many holes in the wall and areas to land. The shelling stopped and the men started getting shot at from the few defenders who had kept their senses and not abandoned their posts. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity, a young officer whose boat was nearest one of the breaches shouted out to his men 'Ur en Juggin, quell ija alls!' which got a roaring cheer in response, not just from his own men, but from those of others nearby. Quickly, the cry spread and others in a similar vain joined the din.
In the City Later that Morning
The artillery barrage from just outside of the apartment block was unnerving, but Coyotl would have endured artillery another round if the noise of the falling shells was not replaced by the bloodthirsty Gothic roar, indicating that the offices had managed to round up a new wave to hit the hundred or so burnt out Ilhicaco in their improvised garrison.
A Cuachic named Tlilpotonqui had organized this unit from remnants of the exterior defensive perimeter of the pocket. Coyotl and his men had hid in the edge of the southernmost part of the city until they were found by him. So, like good Ilhicaco soldiers, they followed him to the relative safety provided in the residential districts in the centre of the city, amongst the citizens that were too entrenched and frightened to try and run for safety when they had the chance to.
From out of the oily smoke the Sadalers came, a thousand voices roaring and clamouring through the wreckage and craters. The entrenched men of the Cuauhocelotl opened up with everything in their possession, from pistols to captured SKFWKs (Stolkalitingfehtingwagnakaljnden), which the invaders had carried with them before being killed. Coyotl shot a man clambering over a buntout trolleybus that was trapped in the rubble and reloaded, firing over and over again at the seemingly endless wave of Sadaler. With wild eyes he turned back to several machine gunners loading their weapons.
'Abies pushing through the courtyard! Get those M.G.s in place!' Two unidentified soldiers obliged, rushing to push their captured machine guns out of the windows and fired away on the enemies below. Next to him, the telegraph came to life, it was Tlilpotonqui. '-SADALER PROBING TEAM HAS BREECHED THROUGH THE UNDERGROUND. COYOTL, TAKE YOUR TEAM TO INVESTIGATE!'
Coyotl fired one more rifle round into the mass outside before turning to gather his squad. Tlilpotonqui, refilling his flamethrower extremely carefully as he tucked his pistol back into his belt; Mazatl, who had abandoned his sniper rifle in favour of a M90 Karabiner he had discovered left on the body of a non-com; Xipilli was curled up under the window nearest to him, he was reloading his M88 Gewehr. He did not need to issue an order as he stood. The depleted squad moved out through the gun and grenade fire. The window where Xipilli had been hiding behind exploded.
Thankfully, all of them were in the hallways leading to the staircase, past the rushing around of supply personnel rearming the defenders with what meagre supplies they could scrounge. Boots stamped in front of the squad, rushing towards them. Before Coyotl realized it, a small group of Sadaler was standing in the hallway, firing wildly until the Ilhicaco were forced to dive into various rooms to lean out and return fire. How in the hell did these Gothic assholes get so deep into the garrison so quickly? Coyotl decided then and there, the Sadaler must have been demons. It was the only explanation. A Raikhsharjis officer roared to his men. It did not take much genius for Coyotl to understand what he was telling his men. Ilhicaco above them, kill them until they were dead.
Well, fortunately for Coyotl, Tlilpotonqui had decided enough was enough. He shoved past the squad that was returning fire, moving from room to room so that the Sadaler paid attention to the three Ilhicaco firing on them and not to him. Finally, Tlilpotonqui disappeared for a while longer. Coyotl hoped that he was not dead. He was not, as the hall around the Sadalers was suddenly and completely engulfed in oily flames. With their firing coming to a halt and their screaming replacing the noise, Tlilpotonqui led the others down the hallway, through the flames, pausing briefly to put the demons out of their misery as they writhed on the ground.
By the time they got to where Tlilpotonqui was supposed to be, he was no longer there, instead he was down the flight of stairs by one level, his pistol cracking as he fired on the invaders advancing. The Sadalers returned fire, forcing Tlilpotonqui to slump on the stairs in an attempt to find cover. 'GET BACK HERE, TLILPOTONQUI!' Not listening to the Officer's desperate order, Tlilpotonqui pushed himself up, his face nearly animalistic. He looked close to insanity. The soldier then pushed the nozzle of his flamethrower over the balcony edge and blasted the nearest Sadaler, who were on the first steps of the staircase, with a wave of fire that torched their bodies, the stairs, the walls, and everything.
The Sadaler screamed in the tar and gasoline fire that boiled their skin and muscle from of their bones. The lobby now quiet, Tlilpotonqui stood up and let out a low mirth filled laugh as he watched the men die slowly. Coyotl closed his eyes and turned away, he absolutely hated flamethrowers. It was one thing to shoot a man, but to douse them in flames that were by-product of a sticky flammable substance? Ghastly was an understatement. With the fuel tank on his back now emptied and having no reserves left in the garrison, he pushed it off his back and retrieved a singed Sadaler rifle left by the invaders and re-joined the rest of his slack jawed squad.
Coyotl was the first one who focused. He did his best not to shoot Tlilpotonqui, who was clearly becoming more and more a liability. It was as though he wanted to die. Calmly and carefully, the Officer turned around to face Mazatl and Xipilli, he tried to ignore the smell of burning human flesh. 'Mazatl, take Xipilli down there.' Mazatl nodded, glancing to Xipilli. The two of them nearly bolted down the staircase, dodging the fire and bodies as they went to secure the lobby while they waited for the other two to join them, leaving Coyotl staring down his second in command, who was heaving hard. He looked amusingly at the burning bodies left in his wake.
Before Tlilpotonqui knew it, the butt of a rifle slammed into his gut, dropping the soldier to the ground. The soldier heaved and rolled over onto his back, only to find himself staring into the barrel of the rifle. Behind it stood Coyotl, his expression cool. 'Act the hero again and I'll kill you myself.' Coyotl warned him, his voice soft despite the topic at hand. 'I said I was not going to fail and get everyone killed, but you're making my promise very difficult to keep. So get your shit together.'
Tlilpotonqui did not reply, instead he simply allowed Coyotl to lean down and take his hand, dragging him back to his feet. The soldier shoved past Coyotl with a sneer, as he limped down to join Mazatl and Xipilli. Coyotl sighed, wishing he was not there. Wishing that Cuachic Chimalli and his army could save them.
On the Other Side
It was all they could do not to start killing everything that moved. The city might have been in flames when they arrived there, but now it was truly a desolated husk. They had been fighting tooth and nail to kill anything that so much as put up a fight, yet the men were not satisfied. Months of fighting in the jungles and ambushes had done to them what few magics could, drive them insane. Now that they were upon the capital of the enemy, there was little ruth to be found in them, for it had been spent weeks ago.
The officers managed to keep a semblance of order and civilised behaviour amongst the men, using the more veteran and elite units to carry out the ransacking and slave taking, whilst the rest were forbidden form doing so and told to kill the enemies before them. This had spared the areas that were captured quickly from being completely destroyed, but had resulted in those areas that did put up a fight being butchered without mercy. The situation had gotten so bad, that one Fruma had given some Ilhicaco his personal standard and told them to display it at the door to their temple to ward off attack while he went and fetched more of his men.
By the time that he had returned, the temple had been gone through and all the people inside were dead and their bodies despoiled to ensure that they would find no happiness in the afterlife. Finding his standard soaked through with blood, he could not help but marvel at how the city streets ran slick with the substance and how he would never be able to stop smelling or tasting it.
In the City a Week Later
There were easily a thousand men gathered in the factory. None of them lower than Coyotl's rank. They were not sure why they were there; at least Coyotl was not sure. All he knew was that the boss had summoned most, if not all of the officers and N.C.O.'s of the Southern Line for a gathering, a plan perhaps; all he had heard had been rumours. 'Kaktok!' The entire factory floor came to attention and quieted down. Coyotl smiled lazily as he too came to attention. Even in near defeat, the officer class of the Cuauhocelotl could manage a shred of dignity and discipline.
Moving through them was Cuachic Tlacelel, surrounded by a dozen of his immediate subordinates. Though he moved through the soldiers, saluting, it was clear by the grim expression on his face that whatever he brought them together for was probably not going to be good. 'Yokoxkayotl... I don't have a voice so come in closer.' he called out as he climbed on top of the assembly line. Coyotl and the rest of the officers and N.C.O.'s obliged, they packed in close to hear their battle fatigued leader speak.
'I know you are aware of the rumours occurring,' Tlacelel spoke to the collection of officers and N.C.O.'s gathered around him. 'That Chimalli is on the verge of relieving us. I speak to you first because you all will be at the forefront of my plans. Chimalli has breached through the Sadaler lines. He is now six miles from the city. Unfortunately, the invaders have tightened their defences. He has slowed his advance to a near standstill.'
There was a low murmur; even Coyotl had found himself surprised. Chimalli had pushed that deep into the encirclement? They were nearly saved! In that moment of optimism, out came his rational mind. Six miles? Growing up, he had heard the horrors of the Xochiyaoyotl, battling and losing hundreds of thousands of men for such a petty gain. It left him with a realisation. Chimalli was not going to relieve the city. He simply lacked the strength. He was going to evacuate as many men as he could before the lines he cut through the invaders collapsed.
'Six miles is all that stands between us and being relieved, so I ask this one last favour of you all. The North, West, and Eastern lines will hold against the hordes outside.' Tlacelel pressed on, his voice much more confident now. 'I ask of you all in the south to prepare for a limited offensive. We are the Cuauhocelotl. We will not simply lie down and wait to die in this city. Not when our relief is so close. This shall be our one last effort.'
The Cuachic paused, staring off. He looked guilty, guilty that he was ordering his worn down and near collapsed men into pushing hard against the ring of Raikhsharjis steel trapping them inside the city. Coyotl felt almost bad for him until he remembered that when the enemy had encircled them, the Sixth Army was still mostly intact. They could have easily committed a breakthrough and left the people of Tenochtitlan to the invaders to butcher and enslave.
Yet again the realist spoke to him. The only troops that would be saved were those on the offensive, the rest would be encircled and killed, sacrificed for a handful of men getting out. That meant Coyotl had to get his men battle-ready once again. This offensive was the last chance they had to escape this nightmare. 'I will be allocating horses, oxen, and the best meats we have to your commands.' the General continued. 'Our cavalry are battered and few and we have but enough strength to break through and hold the docks for three… Five hours.' The General paused, pulling off his cap as he added with great remorse. 'I wish I could give you all a better gift, but hope and limited supplies is all that I have to give...'
Tlacelel scanned the factory, his eyes staring at the fatigued, grimy officers looking back at him for the answers they so desperately needed. 'Know that we are all in this together... If this relief fails, I have no intentions on leaving Tenochtitlan.' Tlacelel announced to the quiet gathering. 'Not when you all are here fighting for this rubble. You and your men are all in my thoughts. Good luck to all of you.' With that said the tired General climbed down from the assembly line and sulked out past his men, his fantasies of relief being dashed by the sheer hopelessness of the situation.
A gift, indeed.
The Breakthrough
The first signs of the encircled men making it through started to appear. The enemy started to pull back and lighten up, as the waters around the city slipped out of their control. Sensing his opportunity, Chimalli ordered his best war-barges to push forward and create a wall of steel and guns on either side of the now opening corridor. They could hear their comrades whooping and cheering as the first evacuation ferries arrived in the city and thousands of civilians poured out to get to safety.
All the bloody fighting, all the sacrifices they had made were finally paying off. As the evacuation progressed, Chimalli was shocked by how bad the men looked. Many of them were pale and gaunt shadows of their former selves, with their uniforms being in absolute tatters. Despite this, they were carrying full loads and none had dropped their weapons from what he could tell, either too used to carrying them or not truly believing that the fighting was over for them. As time rolled by, an oddity occured in that the enemy stopped trying to close their corridor.
Where as before they had been fighting fiercely to stop the evacuation, they had now pulled back to their side of the lake and were engaging in medium to long range duels with his men. Sensing that something was not right, Chimalli called out 'Make sure the our beaches and trenches are secure!' He pulled out his own side-arm, just in case things changed and prepared for the dreadful roar of an enemy charge to return.
Thirty minutes later and his suspicions were confirmed, he could hear them coming and a moment later, artillery shattered one of his lines. The Sadaler men swarmed into the trenches and began their deadly work when a miracle happened. Some of the refugees that they had been protecting grabbed improvised weapons, farming tools and such, and sprinted into the trenches to fight off the invaders. Their commanders spooked by seeing their men repulsed, ordered their men to simply dig in and wait. They were not going to leave them be, but they needed to be more careful to not get slaughtered like their compatriots.
For the next hour, they held and suffered repeated raids on their lines and torpedo attacks on boats. They held the line. Not one man took a step back, with several the soldiers that were escaping the city joining up with them. Of the Cuachicqueh that the Sixth and Fifth had, two companies of them were in good enough shape to stop and fight alongside their rescuers. They were going to hold the line until the very last minute, before finally pulling back.
As the enemy warriors prepared for yet another raid on their lines, an odd thing happened. A whistling noise sounded overhead and shells rained down on the enemy. Soon there after, horsemen with markings belonging to the Huastec, road over and began attacking the enemy lines from behind. They must have been the last warriors left and could not possibly have any place left to go to, but they had decided that instead of fleeing to safety and surrendering, they would throw their lot in with the poor sods here and help save them despite it being an assured death.
With these new friends, the corridor was held for two hours more.
The Last Out
'This way!' Breathing hard as he bolted through the rubble following the rest of his comrades, Xipilli raised his M90 and shot down a squad of Sadaler rushing them. They were almost out of here! Four hundred more yards. They could see relief units battling to hold their position at the docks while they battled back the Raikhsharjis. He turned and watched as Mazatl and Tlilpotonqui blazed away at the Abies who got in their lines of sights, both of them armed with light machine guns, both having abandoned their sniper rifle and flame thrower as the battle waged on. Coyotl lost his rifle as well and had since replaced it with someone's old bolt-action, abandoned on the street.
They fired together on a lightly armoured scout car, pausing only briefly for Tlilpotonqui to throw a grenade at the vehicle. The explosion tore open the blast shield protecting the front window. Again they fired, killing the driver scrambling to pull his vehicle away from the unit of desperate Ilhicaco. Breathing hard, Xipilli turned and focused on his running instead. They were likely the last men getting to the docks. Chimalli was here! Chimalli was going to save them!
'SHIT!' A bullet ricocheted off Tlilpotonqui's helmet. Blinking, He turned and fired blindly in the direction it came from, ripping a woman clutching her bag to shreds. Screaming a long widened profanity at the woman, Tlilpotonqui noticed others that were with her. Youths and children, all of them looking like the enemy to him. They bolted like frightened deer. Tlilpotonqui turned his light machinegun on them and shot the children until they stopped running, until they stopped twitching.
'BASTARD TXIKIAK!' Tlilpotonqui screamed as he tugged off his shattered helmet and threw it at the dead kids. 'UMEAK ZER IZORRA IZAN ZENUELA PENTSATZEN ZUTEN GERTATUKO ZELA? ORAIN IZORRA TXIKIA HILAK ZARA ORAIN, EZ ALA?! ONDO ESPERO DUT MEREZI ZELA!' Tlilpotonqui's arm was captured by Coyotl who, placed a new helmet taken from a dead grunt nearby, over Tlilpotonqui's head and dragged the dazed soldier until he was running again, running but still screaming at the children for making him kill them. Xipilli and Mazatl shared a glance. Both of them too stunned to speak about what they witnessed.
Around them, rockets rained on them and artillery whizzed overhead. This insanity was a sheer awesome display of terror the Sadaler were showing them. Xipilli pushed his fears away and continued running through the fog kicked up by the explosives. At least... he tried to run. The ground underneath him gave way, it was a rotten wooden plank set down by engineers to move quickly over a large drainage ditch. Xipilli roared in agony as he rolled over and found that a piece of the plank was now sticking out of his leg. He hissed as his fingers gingerly touched the injury. Gods, he needed a doctor and fast.
Xipilli shook his head, forcing himself to focus. There was no time to sit here and tend to his injury. He gripped the chunk of wood and pulled it from out of his wound, gritting his teeth he pulled himself up from out of the frozen muddy trench. He groaned as he stood up, not paying attention that his helmet was gone. He looked around, lost and confused. Everyone was gone, nothing but a smoky haze left by two burning buildings, the ground red with the blood of Goths and Ilhicaco scattered across the ruins. Squinting, he barely registered that the war was still being waged around him. In front of he could just make out war-barges and boats picking men up, machine gunners were stationed around the docks, holding off infantry.
Xipilli stumbled forward and fell to the earth, he groaned, dragging himself back up as he desperately tried to limp towards the last of the men being loaded up. From somewhere in front of him, he could hear his name being screamed at the top of somebody's lungs. 'XIPILLI... Coxswain, wait up! XIPILLI! HURRY!' But it was too late. The vessels were filled, the supply wagons and even horses packed. The survivors of the Sixth and Fifth Armies, those that could run, did just that, ran. Xipilli, however was unable to do so. With an agony he never before felt, he started after them in a limping run. Through the searing pain he could make all three of them out, Coyotl, Mazatl, and Tlilpotonqui, standing in the back of a speeding boat.
'XIPILLI! COXSWAIN, HE'S RIGHT THERE, SGELDITU KAMIOI MADARIKATUA, HE'S RIGHT THERE! XIPILLI, I'M NOT LEAVING YOU, KEEP RUNNING, KEEP RUNNING! GODS DAMN YOU, KEEP RUNNING!' But... He just could not. Helplessly, Coyotl, Mazatl, and Tlilpotonqui watched as Xipilli stopped running and simply stood there. The Sadaler had not noticed him just yet as he stood there amongst them. All of them too focused on gunning down the retreating Ilhicaco forces. That, or perhaps they thought he was one of them. Still, he could faintly see Coyotl, Mazatl, and Tlilpotonqui, all three of them screaming incoherently at him, firing their weapons as they were driven away back to the safety of the other shore.
Breathing hard, tears blinding his eyes and thinking of his family as the first Goths turned and took notice of him. In a flash, Xipilli tugged out his side-arm, placing the barrel into his mouth. He closed his eyes; perhaps it was better this way, better then dying a prisoner. Happier times resonating in his mind, Xipilli pulled the trigger. With dull a crack; his legs gave out from underneath him. He never felt the back of his skull blowing out; he never heard the manic screams of anguish, emitted from the men he served with, men who had witnessed his action. He was gone before the enemy approached him and stripped what valuables he had on him.
He simply died there in the ashes, surrounded by the enemy, having almost escaping that hell created by man, surrounded by the waters of Lake Texococo. Before it was stolen... The watch on his wrist struck 12:00 P.M. He had failed to make it past the morning.
Aftermath
'The city is ours, bring over the prisoners!' was exclaimed by one of the leading men during the sack. Across the city, what few survived the slaughter were now being rounded up and put into chains and kept like cattle, whilst the conquerors tool some of their number and used them as sacrifices to the new temples they were erecting. The skulls and bones of many of the dead were being taken to form towers and to implant in walls, with other prisoners being used as slaves to clear away buildings and rubble and build this great new temple and monument to the Hauhkuno and other gods.
After all was said and done, the looting was done in a semi-civilised manner. The gold, silver, and other valuables found and that had not been ruined by the fighting amounted to four-hundred and nineteen Thaler a man by the time they were done. Thousands of slaves were taken too, with the children, old, and feeble being simply taken to the waters and drown to avoid having to care for them. Despite the killing that might have taken place in them, strict orders were given and any found trying to loot or destroy a temple after the fighting was done, were put to death. Priests in particular were taken as slaves, with religious texts, icons, and relics being shipped back to the homeland, so that these gods could be stolen too.
By the time the Raikhsharjis was done, the city lay in ruins. Of its original inhabitants, barely a soul remained alive or free from chains within it once the army decided that they were done building monuments. Some of those rare survivors were instructed to keep the new temples clean and in order and taught the new religion that they should worship. They were also informed of how great the wrath of the gods would be upon them should anything happen to the temples and how the Raikh would return and would not be as merciful as they were previously.
'Ur en Juggin, quell ija alls!' = 'Old and youths, kill/torture them all.'
Also, yes. Those two were running around with light machine guns, not S.M.G.s. As was pointed out to me by Xander, they would effectively just be oversized assault rifles, due to using the same bullets as my carbines.
If you think any of this is over the top, I invite you to read about the Siege of Jerusalem during the First Crusade.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Siege_of_Jerusalem_(1099)#AftermathAlso, the actual fall of the Aztec capital.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fall_of_Tenochtitlan
