Day soon became night. Dark clouds loomed overhead, blocking the starlight above. Occasionally the sky would light up from the ongoing firefights in San Francisco. Explosions replaced the thunder and and lightning, creating the feel of a storm. Jets fly through the sky, leaving streams of jet exhaust behind them. Artillery fire continued to hammer both sides of Red Gate bridge, leaving nothing but ruin, rubble and ash. From across the bridge, no screams were heard. Nothing to signify the terror and pain across the water. So much wreckage across the long bridge, being what is left of last week's battle. So many losses had been taken in that fight. So much blood spilt, all for one city. And we only had one to blame for it all. The KPA. They started this war, which we were going to finish. We would destroy them, or we would force them out.

But that was not what my thoughts rested on as I sat by a small fire. Several others sat around; Marines, pilots and even some civilians. Mingling. This war had brought us together. Hopper sat on a log benches the men had chopped down earlier, everyone else edged away from the Korean. I could understand why, with most of the enemy being Korean themselves. Really showed how war brings out the worst in people. Yet in some cases, it brought out the best. Brings out how much people care for one another, enough to protect each other.

Only one missing from our little group we had going is Rianna. She had taken a large emotional beating from the loss of our friend. It was taking a toll on the team as well with how she acted. I could tell that she was getting distant from us, that we were falling apart. My heart ached from time to time because of this. Just remembering what happened. Connor. Killed in action. Just thinking that brought back the last memory of us seeing him.

Our team leader running out, flare in hand. Yelling out the radio he had. A missile from above, and a convoy heading right for us. In mere seconds, it was over. The missile hit it's mark, destroying the convoy. And with it, a hero. A natural-born leader.

Sounds of chopper blades cutting through the air with tremendous speed drew my attention to the present, away from that memory. I found that one of the soldier's constantly glanced over at me in sympathy, but with some curiosity and pity as well. In return I gave a questioning glare of my own, and he soon stopped. Whatever thoughts he had he would have to keep to himself. When the other soldier looked away, I sighed to myself, resting my face in one of my hands.

After a small moment of thought I went back into scooping out the crude stew I had. Better food was needed for the civilians since they had suffered more than us. Having lost their homes to this war and family members. And not all of them had even arrived as of yet, some still trapped on the other side of the large bridge. Explosions was enough to reveal everything that was happening over there. From here, I could see silhouettes of towers falling and crumbling into rubble. I could imagine the cries. All the cries of sadness, pain and-

"Hey, you Jacobs?!" My hands froze with a spoonful then glanced up. It was one of the other soldiers. Not the one that had been giving me glances. I gave no answer, and went back to eating instead. Instead, someone else answered. The one sitting alone, Hopper. If I didn't know what the kid had gone through so much, I would have ridiculed him. There was some more small talk, though I did my best to ignore it. Only focusing on what was to come the next day.

A funeral, after having found the body of Connor. And we were going to bury him just before the bridge, in memory of his final act. Not only for us to remember, but all others that came by. And when this war was to come to an end, a memorial for all those to see after. He sighed once more, then took another spoonful into his mouth, enjoying the warmth of the stew as best he could. Hardest thing would be to see Rianna. She had been close to Connor, and even though I did not know how close, I knew that they weren't just acquaintances.

I soon finished my meal. Yet after I remained while still holding my bowl in hand and a spoon in the other. I remembered how so long ago before this war I used to watch films, play video games about war. But one thing I learned to realise while being a military pilot before this war is that one doesn't know war until they themselves experience it.

And I had experienced it, the worst in this battle for US soil. This world we once knew truly was falling apart. No matter how much we fought back, they would push back harder. It was by some miracle we hadn't fallen apart as of yet.

As I watched, I noticed a bright flash of light followed by a thundering rumble. Whatever that was, it was close. Looking over, I saw that the explosion was right on the other side of Red Gate bridge. Too close for comfort. This night was going to be long and only get worse for us. Something was coming. A storm. Not the natural kind. Finally, I stood up and left to find a place to sleep for this night.

The next day a literal storm had decided to show up, showering us. Everyone came by to pay respects on our side of the bridge to those lost in the battle of the Red Gate bridge. No fires burned, thanks to the storm's light rain and winds. No thunder came, nor any lightning came to streak across grey clouds.

By my left stood Hopper, his head bowed and hands clasped in front of him as a sign of respect. A single tear ran down his cheek. Rianna off to my left had been silently weeping with her cheeks wet from both the rain and tears. With nothing formal to wear, we all wore our casual outfits. Hopper had his green cap and blue T-shirt over his long sleeved shirt that had red, blue and white stripes along them. Green jeans cover his legs. On his face he wore a mournful look. Rianna had her hair flowing out unlike she normally did. Her red shirt grew damp under her tactical vest, as did her dark pants.

As for me, I wore black gloves with the ends cut off, a brown jacket and camo pants. It was easy to pick out who were the soldiers by name and who were the resistance fighters. Rain ran through my hair and down my outfit, drenching both. But I paid no attention to the weather. I instead stared at one of the signs made just before the funeral, a name etched into it. Connor Morgan. That name would stick with me forever. I just knew it.

Soon, I couldn't bear it anymore. I may have appeared heartless to some of the troops by leaving just moments after the ceremony started, but the truth was I couldn't bear to be seen in such an emotional state. Not in front of them. There was a war to be fought, and I had to remain strong.

I took a stroll over to one of the buildings and found some metal chairs folded out. The entire room was empty, save for one uniformed personnel at a radio tuning the device from time to time. I sat in silence for a few seconds. Then my face fell into my hands. I wanted to let out a cry of frustration. 'Why did Connor have to go out there and die?!' I had thought to myself. 'He was the leader...We're tearing ourselves apart.' I remained in my thoughts until someone's voice filled with urgency and panic.

" Wilkins, who's firing?! What's going on?!" I looked up from my hands to the radio operator. Even though their back was to me, I could tell they were distressed. "Wilkins! Fall back! Do you hear me?! Fall-" The operator cut short, and I could hear why. A loud grinding screech came through the radio, accompanied by a bloodcurdling scream. Then dead silence. "Wilkins...Are you there...Fuck!" the operator shouted after slamming a fist against the desk. Whatever had happened, it wasn't good.

I heard footsteps coming in through the door, and spotted almost everyone in the doorway with curious and anxious faces. The operator turned on his chair, his face grave.

"Charlie Company...they're gone. All of them." Everyone was thrown into a stunned silence. What could take out an entire company? Our answer came soon after.

"What happened?" One of the officers questioned, going over to give a supportive hand on the operator's shoulder. Poor guy. he had just listened to a bunch of people dying.

"They...he spoke of...metal monsters."

So that's the second chapter. And I should mention that the request and main plot idea came for this came from a fellow author, ResistTheEmpire. He has done a couple of works, one being a well done collab with a friend of his.

And for those who read my main Homefront story, you can guess what's about to come. And warning, graphic content in the next chapter.