The answer wasn't obvious, and it took you a bit to figure it out while you were passing out the bullets. While getting more girls armed up and ready to roll was a good plan, you knew that also made you a better target for the rocket-launcher cultists. Likewise, hiding in the Zemlyankas was dead out- either you would get a perfect ambush off, or it would turn into a hand-to-hand brawl at close quarters, and you knew The Enemy had men to spare for that sort of thing. Finally, you settled into a "good" plan- throw some lead while they were crossing the killzone, and then slide back into the alleys around the Research Center. If they came in, you could shred them with a rolling retreat out into the road, and if shit fell all the way through then…
…You had bayonets.
That depressing thought aside, you started yelling and shouting the girls into a rough double line behind you so that if things went wrong en-route you could get a good firing line out. Thankfully, that never happened, so you got the girls into the alley, and then stuck your nose out to find The Enemy.
" 'EY, BOSS, MEYBEE WE SHOULD TELL THE BOOM BOYZ TO KEEP SHOOTING, NEH?"
Yep. That was Cultists, all right. Getting the girls out into a staggered firing line, you instructed each girl to aim for the group to the left of the battered banner sitting up there. It was a muddy thing, the black snakes on it writhing in an incomprehensible snarl. Nobody looked at it longer than they absolutely had to- it broke the brains of those who did. Hopefully, the group your girls were aiming for would be the command group, and your first shots would be your last.
Snapping your fingers loudly, a clear volley rang out as fifty antiquated rifles spat death, and reloaded by the numbers. After some panicked shouting, you saw The Enemy redirect themselves into a loose attack column, prompting you to fall the girls back into the alley at the double. Now came the difficult part. The alley was only about eight girls wide, and you needed every gun at the ready.
"Alright, we're making a three-line fire basket! Squad 1, get prone in a line here, slightly angled! Squad 2, kneeling behind that! Squad 3, standing! Four, get your magic ready- they might try something ugly! Five, fix bayonets and get your Barriers hot! If they hit the line, you're going to buy us enough time to fall back! Move, move, move!"
It was almost scary, the clockwork precision displayed by the girls. The slight tilt to the line was almost unnoticeable in the dark, and you really wished your targets were going to be backlit. This was literally the worst situation to be in unless everything went right- a packed alley, with untrained riflemen, and very eager melee fighters charging into the fray. About the only relief to-
-that was a glint off metal.
"UTE!" you yelled, as a more ragged volley went out. In the back, a banshee scream echoed, reminiscent of rage and hope. The intent behind the magically-infused sound might not have been clear to you, but to the stopped remains of The Enemy's lead unit, the purpose was clear enough. Reloading, their bolts clicked and clacked, little tinkles of brass ringing out against the packed earth. Firing again, this time by row, you hear a series of sounds that makes you blanch. Crinkles and crankles, the sound of jamming guns. It wasn't all of them, mind, but that didn't matter much.
"First squad, fire! Second, fall back through Third! Third, fire! Fourth, advance and kneel, then fire!"
The odd maneuver worked, barely, and the girls in Second grimly fixed bayonets to compensate for their disabled guns. A few slipped bullets in when their guns worked, others growled at their broken tools. Behind the formation, Fifth squad threw up a magical flare to illuminate the battlefield.
You almost wished they hadn't. Blood and gore was on the cold earth, decorating the remaining snow in a macabre light. The heavy rounds of the rifles had stripped any pretense of civility from the battle, and ended lives in torn messes. As one hand flapped in the wind from the charging fanatics, you belatedly realized that not even all of them were dead.
Then you realized you were getting charged, and swore. The prone girls had been smart enough to get up, but it wasn't enough as spears flashed and a soprano scream started. This was no weapon, though. This was terror.
"Second squad, CHARGE!" you yelled, beckoning with a now-glowing arm. As their sisters tried to fight, you heard one voice in there cry out a traditional Banzai, and then they hit home. Bayonets, in your opinion, weren't all that great, especially the antique spikes the girls had. As Third Squad dragged those of First back for medical attention, Fourth did something unexpected, crying out and whipping their hands toward Second Squad. You brushed it off as magic, and Fifth Squad got back far and adopted an echelon stance, ready for the forward girls to fall through them. In the distance, explosions and screams rang out, while you kept your focus on the battle. This was important, critical even. As the swift dance of spear on bayonet continued, you heard some vague shouting before a second unit of fresh Cultists hit the poor girls. The spent ones had gone down like dogs, but these fresh ones were tougher it seemed- that, or your girls were just tired. Either way, their line was damn near broken, and it was time to skedaddle.
First Squad, now behind Second, got up and rolling, passing through Fifth to cover the back of the alley. Third Squad, proving their experience as medics, grabbed what wounded they could of Second to drag back as Second franticly disengaged and ran back. The girls were faster than the baying Enemy, and as the cultists readied themselves for a nice sacking, they were met with more rifle fire. What bare minimum of standing girls behind Five from Two were mad as hell, and ready to go down guns blazing. Alternating their firing and reloading, they burned through a few clips in a hurry.
It wasn't enough, though, and you knew you needed to act now. Charging the light you held on you and in you, a part of you sighed. You then thrust the light out, willing it to become more. Now it wasn't light. It was Light, and when it struck those black-hearted bastards it cut through them like the end it was.
Of course, they tried to charge again. It was all they knew, the damned things. Only now, with their numbers attrited across the seventy-foot long alley, it went from an avalanche of death to a pitiful last stand of the damned. Scraping them off from Life with a slight bit more rifle fire and more of your Burning Light, you smiled a fell smile. They were done.
"Blackstone-dono! Blackstone-dono! Your father and his men are coming!" one of First Squad called out. "The Enemy are defeated!"
Smiling faintly, your legs lost their strength, and you found a brace of strong arms helping to hold you up. You had to tell your father. You had to tell him you had won.
(There may be an epilogue. Either way, voting for May is now resumed!)
