The Shadow Strikers

by BiscuitReloaded

The epic tale of the Irken Empire's most secretive sect of special operations, an elite squad of 10 highly trained and extremely dangerous individuals whose service has undoubtedly kept the mighty Empire from collapsing...until they are pushed too far.

72. Black Eyes

Pandemonium accurately conveyed the ever-deteriorating situation surrounding the plaza. The moment's reprieve between their initial defensive pushback against the VDF assault and the awe of the mass evacuation had run its course. The Vortian aggressors, having witnessed yet another massacre of their own kind mid-air above their heads in the form of a crashing civilian passenger liner found their mettle.

Fueled by another ample helping of anger on top of a plate piled full of retribution, desperation, determination, and pride, the ragtag band of resistance pressed the crash site once more. This time, however, the element of surprise was lost by Corr and his team. No amount of training or cutting-edge technology and weapons could overcome the sheer volume of fire returned their way.

From their makeshift ramparts, suppressive fire allowed handfuls of VDF militia and hardened veterans alike to inch their way closer to the crash site. Purple Team now found itself contending with a wider variety of armaments thrown its way in addition to withering fire at-range. Chief among them were a myriad of hand-thrown and weapon-launched explosives.

A lucky frag grenade lobbed up and caught the team's grenadier by surprise with only moments to run before disaster struck. Rha, intensely focused on keeping the advancing VDF fighters away from the crash site with slow, well-placed fire, did not immediately see the armed fragmentation grenade until it rolled into his peripheral view.

Instinct and training recognized it alone as his eyes widened with a mixture of panic and terror from behind his visor. He turned to sprint, hard and fast as his weary legs would carry him. The Sergeant counted two full strides of his feet in his head. The third was interrupted by a blinding flash to his back, a deafening blast ripping past his antenna, and promptly followed by immediate darkness.

The high-pitched whine in his hearing that drowned out any other semblance of noise was the first comforting sign he was still alive. Unfortunately, it soon passed as the dangerously-close brush with death did not leave him unscathed. Vision returned next, hazy and unfocused. He was still on the roof, prone on his chest. His body numb and the wind knocked from his spooch, he winced, attempting to roll to his back and evaluate. His squadmates needed him.

Gritting his teeth, palms flat to the rooftop, his arms trembled to push himself upright. No visible signs of immediate trauma within his peripheral view, but his legs felt sluggish and heavy. Not unlike the rest of him, but less responsive. He was needed. He had to get back in the fight or they'd all die.

Growling through his teeth, Rha managed to flip himself over to his back and sit up. Only then did the horror of what happened begin to set in fully at what he saw. His right leg was...not there. He did not see it nearby, nor attached as it should have been. In its place, just above the knee, was a ravaged, emerald mass of flesh, tissue, and protruding bone.

Stunned silent at the surreal sight, his attention drifted to his left leg. It was present, but not as it should have been. The damage done was not as severe, but the grotesque sight of seeing the back of his leg and foot rotated 180 degrees did not do him any favors. It had remained in place where he rolled to his back, offset. A single strand of sinew, skin, and flesh was all that kept it attached, but otherwise did not respond to any of his attempts to move it.

Fresh blood rapidly pooled with each quickened beat of his heart from two grievous, open wounds at what remained of both of his legs. His now-compromised armor saved his life from the brunt of the blast. Disoriented, dazed, and now contending with agony as the shock began to wear off, Rha struggled to engage the built-in section seals above the wounds. If he was going to hope to survive just a little longer, the loss of blood needed to be stimmed somehow.

Zok emerged from nearby, uncloaked and careful to not expose himself. The suit and armor was really the only reason he wasn't horribly mutilated from grenade fragments himself. The Vortian moved quickly to reach for a pair of tourniquets off his own medical equipment before he saw trying to reach for some sort of cover on the armor. He cracked it open for him and saw a button underneath and pressed it. The Irken knew his gear, it was a matter of trusth on what he was doing.

As the section seals went to work, the Vortian looked around for any further threats. Seems the regulars thought Rha went down. Good. Once the windlasses did their work cutting off the bleeding he started dragging Rha towards the stairwell door to bring the Irken inside. He wouldn't be much use on the roof in the condition he's in.

Corr's only saving grace was operating the heavy cannon, overheating and down to its last power cell as two tanks remained smoldering in the street. He only paused for a few moments to set alight impromptu incendiary bottles of perfume Luna brought him from the department store during the lull to hurl them at the VDF below. His acquired VDF plasma and mass accelerated weapons had also run dry, leaving him with naught but his sidearm and the bolt action from earlier once again.

"Haxx, Volx, ammo check!" Corr called out over the radio.

"I got three cells left on the machine gun!" Haxx called out, using a VDF machine gun, the remnants of his own slagged machine gun and three others resting around his feet from the onslaught. "What about you?!"

Corr quickly checked his bandolier before replying, "Got maybe a clip and a half for the rifle left, down to the last cell on the heavy cannon. Then all I got is my pistol."

"Fuck!" Haxx yelled, "If the Commander doesn't show up soon he's going to be picking up our corpses!"

The Lieutenant, moving from position-to-position amidst the ever-growing torrent of enemy fire as they pressed the attack, smoothly exchanged the depleted power cell from her rifle for the last remaining one of her rig that now limply flopped about her body.

"Last cell before appropriating enemy arms, Sir!" She called out over the din of combat.

Back to the wall, she rolled out of cover to take aim and fire. Her luck ran out as a mass-driven round pierced her pauldron and punched clean through her shoulder. Faltering, she fell to the ground from the sudden shock of pain and instinctively pushed with her feet back toward the wall.

"Fff-hah…" She grit her teeth, not bothering with radioing she was hit. Their medics were tied up with Rem still.

Settling for playing the part herself with rudimentary knowledge and her own medical supplies, Volx detached the pierced piece of armor to get at the wound. Stop the bleeding, get back in the fight. That's all that mattered. Her mental fortitude and pain tolerance were something to behold as she worked, speaking into their comms once again.

"Sula, Zutel, Posa, one of you. Status. What's going on down there?"

The Medical Officer was unable to respond as both of her hands were occupied deep within Rem's chest cavity. The trapped and injured pilot's chest was opened from collar to pelvis and pinned back. Sula's limbs saturated with blood up to the elbows and beyond, stained sleeves rolled up and gloves soiled, she meticulously worked beneath Posa's provided light.

A delicate process to not aggravate existing grievous injuries in an unsanitary and unsafe environment. Razor-sharp fragments of broken ribs gingerly moved to not lacerate surrounding tissue further while permitting access to the primary threats to Rem's survival. Her meticulous focus and determination saw her punctured spooch be sealed, temporarily.

"One of you answer that. Little busy." Sula addressed without sparing a glance from her work. "Bleeding's stopped, but it's a patch job. Still picking bone shards out of things and I need more suction. Enough blood in here to fill a pool."

"Working on it!" Zutel ducked as a hole from a mass driven round punctured the shuttle from a stray machine gun blast that cracked by her antenna before landing in the ceiling. "Nearly gave me a brainectomy…"

Zok got on the channel next, "Not to interrupt you two, but your Grenadier is most certainly down. I stopped the bleeding but he's unable to do much other than scream at the moment."

"How bad is it?" Volx inquired, her patience thin. "Sula, update, now!"

"One of you fucking answer her!" The Medical Officer snapped.

"Posa, fucking answer her!" Zutel ordered, much too mired in her own work assisting Sula.

Knowing tensions were high and snapped from her own daze as she watched Sula work, she keyed her radio while focusing the light.

"Right, uh...progress is being made. We've stopped the bleeding and Sula is picking the bone fragments ou-"

The Private's transmission was cut short as a grenade particularly close to the compromised hull of the shuttle detonated. Its shockwave rattled the three medics and their patient with a sparse handful of its deadly payload speeding through the open sections of the vessel. Most of it ricocheted and bounced around with little adverse effect. Sula, Zutel, and Rem were spared. Posa was not so fortunate.

Several fragments lodged themselves in Posa's right side, the side facing the exterior of the vessel. Her armor stopped most of what would have been lethal, but her exposed visage was not so lucky. The right side of her face instantly became a savage, shredded mess of pulped flesh. Her eye ceased to exist in the bloody mess as she screamed in agony, clutching at her face, and falling out and away from where she sat. Her involuntary spasm of pain pushed against Sula's back while taking the light away from Rem's exposed body cavity.

"Light! Light! Need light!" Sula struggled, attempting to keep her hands rigid and in place to no force bone into uncompromised flesh all the while trying to keep Posa from pushing her into Rem. "Zutel, get control of her!"

"My hands are just as stuck as yours, damn it!" Zutel quickly responded. "Volx, what the fuck are you guys doing out there?!"

"Can'tsee! AAFFAce!" Posa wailed, kicking in agony, hands clutching her wounds.

Luna, hearing the commotion, left her vantage point two buildings across from Corr, braving the battlefield to make her way into the shuttle. Several hits stung her as she moved, the cloak removing the armor protection of the under layer but giving her the stealth needed to make her way inside.

"Friendly, don't fire." The Vortian moved in, taking the light and sticking it on what remained of the control surfaces as best she could to give the two surgeons their light once more before moving to get control of Posa.

Relieved to have visible light once more to work, she breathed deeper to calm herself and focus. A challenge with the Private's suffering filling the enclosed space, complete with thrashing.

"Shut her up if you can. Pile of supplies in the bags. Any big chunks, pick out. Otherwise, douse it with antiseptic, pack the socket, and bandage. We can't tend to her." Sula relayed, able to lift a single digit to her own comms, streaking it with blood.

"Rem's improving but Posa deteriorated. Just caught a faceful of grenade shrapnel. Still alive, but it isn't pretty." She relayed over her apparent screaming.

Releasing the transmit key, she glanced over her shoulder at their new arrival as she moved to aid Posa. "How bad is it? She completely blind? I need her back up if she can see still."

Luna since went to work, giving Posa a syrette to dull the pain from her own supplies before removing what large fragments she could that weren't forcefully embedded. Otherwise, it was like Sula said, got right to packing the wounds and bandaging, making sure to stabilize the few large chunks that couldn't be removed easily. Wiping away some of the blood and looking her over it seemed one side managed to escape it. "Hey, Posa, can you open your left eye?"

Despite struggling and thrashing throughout the whole ordeal, Luna's efforts began to take effect. Dulling the pain allowed her to calm down somewhat, taking deeper breaths, and mustering the willpower to push the pain out as best she could. The right side of her face felt aflame with red-hot pokers throbbing into what felt like her brain. Blood ran thick down the features of her face, staining her uniform further with Rem's. A quivering left hand rose to wipe at the left side of her face.

"T-tryin-" She managed against the sharp pains, finally peering through tightly-drawn lids. "...yeah. Can open. I can see."

"Hurt or not, I need you over here." Sula called to her. "Take an extra hit of painkillers if you need to."

Luna helped Posa sit up, resting her against the perforated cockpit wall. "You going to be good? Can't give you too many hits of the syrettes. Seems like they need your wits about you."

Trembling in agony as she was and fighting back tears in her remaining, uncompromised eye, Posa pilfered their supplies for another auto-injector of medication for the pain. Sticking herself with a wince in the side of her neck, she tossed the spent device. Several seconds passed, flooding relief throughout her body. The sharp, burning throbbing of her visage and missing eye ebbed to a manageable level. Rem's condition took priority. Taking the moment's reprieve, she wrapped Luna's patch job more skillfully, securing it in place. No more bleeding.

"O-okay...ahhh...hurts...sobad." She ebbed out with a seethe, crawling past the other medics back to her prior position. "S-sorry. Back."

"Don't apologize." Sula answered, tweezing another bone shard from Rem's spooch. "Handling a faceful of shrapnel pretty well far as I can tell. Tougher than you look."

"Yeah...Rem's worse. Needs me."

"Toughness isn't always physical. There's a reason why you're a medic." Sula concluded, attempting to keep the Private's morale up. "...and what was that about Rha? You catch that?"

"Chose you as my understudy over so many others for a reason, Posa. Don't regret it one bit." Zutel added before getting back on the radio to figure out that burning question, "Can someone repeat what happened to Rha?"

"The Grenadier has one leg hanging by a tendon and his other leg's gone." Zok replied to Zutel.

"Oh that's just great..." Zutel looked to Sula briefly, "What's his condition?"

"Not going to bleed out, but he's done fighting unless anyone walks into this office."

Needing to adjust her posture from strain anyway, Rem found a place to carefully remove her hands to key her own radio. Administering aid was a grim necessity and chief among her most unwilling responsibilities was triaging her fellow squadmates and friends. Rha, however critical his condition was, had to wait. Rem took priority.

"Elevate the wounds above his head. Prop him up if you must. Otherwise, cauterize them. It's too hot for any of us to get to him and we're out of blood to transfuse until the others get here."

"Cauterize it is," Zok replied, not seeing any other option. "Anything on him for that-"

Comm traffic broke through before the Vortian could continue. "Break, break. Purple Team, Bolt, be advised, do not fire on the approaching IFV. That's your backup finally coming in. You should be hearing their engine roaring away right about now."

"Thank Irk…" The Medical Officer commented under her breath with exasperation. "Finally, some good news...Posa?"

"Y-yes, Ma'am?" She seethed in discomfort at the simple act of moving the features of her mangled face.

"You good? I need you focused on this." Sula inquired, gesturing with a nod to Rem's open torso.

"I'm good. Only a flesh wound. She's worse." Posa assured her, masking her agony as best she could measure with a thumb's up.

As the trio of medics continued their selfless toil with Rem's life hanging in the balance, chaotic best described the events unfolding beyond the perforated impromptu operating room. The continual firing of VDF flares into the night sky kept much of the area illuminated in an eerie, flickering crimson glow. Shadows danced erratically from a multitude of other existing light sources in the form of burning vehicle wrecks, buildings aflame, and the distant incandescent blooms of magenta lances piercing the evening skies before impacting the ground. Their intended targets of varying importance saw themselves vaporized to the molecular level with each devastating round, bringing the defenders of Tallum one step closer to complete annihilation with each successive strike.

Witnessing the Empire's hammer fall upon them with extreme prejudice motivated them to fight all the harder. There was nowhere left to retreat to. Nowhere left to regroup. Tallum had been their final bastion against the Emerald Horde. Even now, with the phasic barrier compromised, they were left with a single, simple ultimatum: fight or die. Most chose to fight. Those terrified at the prospect of death found themselves motivated by bravery and courage in the face of impossible odds to do the same. The VDF assailing the crash site did not fight like desperate men in their final moments. No, they fought with the ferocity and aggression of those with hope. Fruitless as it may have been, what should have been a broken spirit and long-since-lost morale now raged like the roiling inferno of the surface of the brightest stars across the universe.

While Purple Team's valiant efforts to hold their ground had stymied the VDF's advance, they were ravaged by harsh reality. Outnumbered, outgunned, and on the verge of being overrun by a highly-motivated enemy with their backs to the wall, the only way out was through the tightening noose whittling away at their resolve. Even with the aid of their questionable allies, no amount of training, experience, or technical superiority could overcome sheer numbers.

Exhausted, supplies dangerously low, and every member sporting some wound of varying severity, the announcement of Red Team's long-awaited arrival could not have come any sooner. The obsolete, lightly-armored, tracked vehicle rumbled along through the city street. A relic of a different era that would be promptly reduced to a burning heap of gnarled wreckage with basic infantry weaponry and extremely out-of-place served its purpose in bringing precious cargo closer to the crash site uninhibited.

Aero sat in the driver's seat, carefully navigating the hazards before them with limited practice. Steep embankments of rubble, haphazardly-assembled defendable positions, and Vortian troop movements. None of which were the wiser of the species and faction of the occupants within one of their own vehicles.

"Vard?" Vult looked up in the turret where the Sergeant and Hesa resided as gunner and loader respectively.

"Sir?" He looked down as the vehicle rumbled along, jostling them all about.

"Hold fire until we're made. VDF's none the wiser."

"What about Captain Corr and the others?"

"Nobody benefits to come this far and be on the receiving end of AT weapons in close-quarters by jumping the gun. They've lasted this long, another sixty seconds is all I need to survey the situation."

"...Understood, Commander." Vard relinquished, casting a glance of doubt at Hesa, but safetied the trigger to the turret's main armament for the time being.

"Not to mention a plasma machine gun could tear us a new one," Hesa mused as she ensured a magazine of HE slugs were loaded in the weapon while staging another from the nearby rack. She gazed outside through the gun's scope meant as a backup in case the digital systems failed. The Vortians were resolved to fight, not backing down despite the casualties. Though they seemed to be getting closer and closer to the others.

Within their own comms came to life as they came within range of Purple Team's damaged comms.

"Rha's cauterized. VDF's in the precinct." Zok sounded off over the radio.

"Keep it non lethal, Sarge. We can't blow our cover," Tha ordered.

"Copy."

"That just leaves the three of us out here!" Haxx yelled, "Why isn't the Commander firing?!"

"Still getting into position, standby. We aren't leaving you out to dry, Haxx." Vult assured him, stabilizing himself as the vehicle dipped into a bombed-out crater and crested the other side. "...and can you try to not hit every single hole, Aero?"

"Sorry, Sir!" She called over her shoulder, clutching to shift gears. "Don't want to run any of 'em over if I can avoid it!"

"Soon as you have a good view of the plaza, angle and park us. Vard, start prioritizing targets and wait for my order."

"Hopefully this doesn't fuck us," Hesa said to herself as she withdrew her canteen for one last drink before battle. Whatever was about to come would be...interesting.

Corr was about to respond with target priorities before a mass driven round slammed into the back of his helmet, causing the Captain to slump forward onto the heavy cannon and sliding down onto the roof. It seemed an apparent kill shot for anyone watching but his vitals said otherwise, rendered unconscious from the shock of the round slamming into his head. The helmet could only do so much. To Tha, it also seemed like a pistol caliber round as she uncloaked behind cover, expecting SIS may have been behind it and glancing around for targets.

"Athka, heads up, unknowns in the area, possible SIS."

Luna, stuck in the shuttle with the three medics, kept her plasma rifle trained on the door to the back of the shuttle, looking through a thermal scope in case any of them came through. She was the only real effective line of defense for the three medics as it stood for the moment. She couldn't leave, even cloaked she was ankle deep in Irken blood, she'd leave a very visible trail.

"The Captain's down! Fuck! It's just the Lieutenant and I left, Commander!" Haxx screamed as he and Volx became the focus of the VDF's intense fire. He grabbed another nearby Vortian GPMG and fired one from each shoulder at any Vortian he saw pop their head up or step out of cover. One of them already glowing a dull red and would soon be bound for a growing pile of slagged guns around his feet. "Aero I swear if your slow driving gets me killed I will somehow come back to life and fucking kill you!"

"Mind your lane, Haxx." The First Sergeant commented with mild annoyance as she downshifted to a slowed stop before traversing the hull with the front facing the crash site. "We've arrived at our destination, Sir."

"Oh fuck yourself, Aero! You haven't been getting-" Haxx was cut off while he coughed and spit out some more blood from his broken ribs, "getting shot at all this time!"

Some of the fire lightened up as some of the Vortians below started running in a different direction to the southwest end of the plaza as sounds of a distant firefight began. That couldn't be the Commander…

"Purple Team, Dagger Lead, General Vaukt sent us as a relief force. Let us take some of this heat off for you. Got an armored spearhead on the way from the regs on top of that. Can you continue to hold, over?"

Vult, still processing Haxx's prior transmission, hesitantly reached for his own radio.

"Dagger Lead, Red-1. ETA until those forward elements are in our AO? Purple Team needs relief ASAP, over."

"Wait one," there was a pause over the radio for what seemed like an eternity, even though it was really only thirty seconds, "Red One, Dagger Lead, armor spearhead ETA is five to ten minutes, over."

"We don't have five minutes, Dagger Lead. Expedite it."

"Our teams are currently engaging. We'll do what we can but the Marshal said she can do only five minutes at best speed, sir."

"Boss, Deadeye," Kazak was next to come in, "Spike and I located a second artillery battery to grab. We have the guns ready to fire on the battery you cleared out. Just give us coordinates."

Hesa was quick to leap in, given she had nothing better to do for the time being, "Haxx, you got some artillery support. Where do you want it?"

"Start a hundred meters out from your position and work your way out to three hundred back the way you came!" Haxx yelled out, "That should do a fair bit!"

Outside the IFV, a Vortian ran up to bang on the hull, "Hey! Guys, the restaurant roof! Pour your fire on up there!"

Aero's eyes widened at the call for fire support, looking back over her shoulder at Vult with a shrug as she keyed the vehicle's radio with her best attempt at Vortian.

"Uhh...say again. No visual."

"The roof!" The Vortian yelled, "The restaurant roof! Behind you!"

"Behind? We just rolled through and it was clear! Not hitting friendlies with HE. Identify and mark your targets, over."

The channel was closed on her end with grit teeth as she wheeled around to her superior.

"How do I get rid of this guy? I can't keep playing dumb, Sir!"

"We're gonna have to start shooting something soon or he's going to try opening a hatch." Hesa said from her position as she sent coordinates out to Kazak for the artillery blast.

"What are you guys even doing?! Do I have to die out here?!" Haxx pleaded, "Do something!"

"We are!" Aero barked back at him over their communications channel. "Standby."

"Deadeye received coordinatesb. Standby."

At the captured artillery battery, the two snipers entered coordinates and the firing range into the four automated guns. Irken forces were already advancing past them. The guns fired in sequence, each one firing all twelve of their shots.

"Rain's coming. Acquiring a scout vehicle from friendlies and advancing to the next artillery battery. Out."

Not long after Kazak spoke up, shells started landing, large explosions hitting concentrations of Vortian troops with extreme precision. The artillery bombardments scattered some of the regulars but not the ones in the Plaza who remained focused on Haxx, being outside the artillery's blast range.

"Damn it, do I have to come in there and do it myself?!" The irritated Vortian yelled from outside.

"Negative! Negative!" The First Sergeant quickly answered, trying to bide their time. "We're having...technical difficulties with the main gun. Calibration's off and unresponsive. Working on it...uhh...how are you?"

"Open that back hatch! Now!" The Vortian ordered before the efforts of Kazak and Gers began to bear fruit. Only a hundred meters away the first slugs fell, the explosions tearing apart a large group of Vortians that were pouring plasma and slug fire onto Haxx, taking a fair deal of pressure off of him. "Cover! Get to cover! Damned Irken are shelling us!" The Vortian ordered as he signaled others to get to cover, the initial meddler meeting a number of bolts from Haxx as he fled from cover.

The first salvo of incoming artillery began landing around the area. Each impact blossomed in a brilliant bloom of explosive energy. Mass-driven HE shells and plasma alike sent the dug-in VDF attackers scurrying in panic for any semblance of cover from the lethal rain above.

Aero breathed a sigh of relief despite the very real danger surrounding them. The IFV rocked and shuddered with each thundering blast. The lack of sound dampening was made very clear to the occupants.

"Okay, crisis averted...aaaand my teeth are gonna be rattled outta my mouth!" She yelled over the rancor. "Commander, Sir? Can we please open up on them now? They're scattering and don't know what's going on!"

"Stand by," Vult held up a single digit to her before speaking into the radio. "All handles, Red-1, be advised. About to compromise our infiltration. HE loaded and ready, where is it needed most, over?"

The Sergeant took a breath as he dropped one of the red hot machine guns effectively turned to slag as he focused using controlled bursts from the remaining gun on his left shoulder. "Really owe you one there, Hesa."

"Pay me back later," she answered back, taking a breath before getting ready to help Vard however she could.

Near Corr, plasma fire rained down from above, but not at him, instead at Tha. Four SIS agents had her pinned down, preventing her from doing anything. Hearing Vult on the radio was a great relief. Any longer they'd try flanking her.

"Red, Reaper, I got something for you. I'm pinned down on the roof of the building on the south end of the plaza near the shuttle. SIS has me pinned from the building across the street. Could use some fire on them."

Haxx jumped in, "Looks like four of them, uncloaked. Can't tell if anymore are. My helmet's mostly non functional, only the basics. Take care of her and the Captain, don't know if he's even alive or not, looked like a kill shot earlier."

"Nomad here, Haxx, Volx is going to need your help out back, got a flanking action building up."

"On it. Commander, the plaza's all you for right now if you can handle that."

"One thing at a time, Haxx." The Commander responded, maintaining a level head through the chaos. "Vard, Hesa, you are clear to engage. Target at your discretion."

"Yes, Sir." Vard obeyed, flipping the safety off. "Targeting. Engaging."

Hesa grabbed a second magazine of high explosive slugs ready for a rapid swap, "Go, go!"

The turret turned towards the four SIS agents on the roof and opened fire. A trio of HE shells hitting one of the agents and bringing her down caused the other three to cease firing long enough for Tha to return fire before the remaining three scattered, activating their cloaks as they made their way to cover. The turret's attention then turned to those lingering in the plaza, few as they were.

"IFV, this is Seros, SIS, watch your fire! You're shooting at friendlies!" A voice came up over the radio.

Aero's eyes widened at the transmission. A member of SIS openly transmitting over the VDF battlenet? Their arrogance truly knew no bounds being so brazen and aloof. The First Sergeant leapt at the opportunity presented as she sat up straighter, cuing her own comms. She would deal with any ensuing punishment for doing so without asking permission later.

"Say again, Seros. Another salvo of HE? Sending."

Hesa laughed as she threw the spent magazine out a hatch in the back of the turret after reloading and giving Vard a tap on the shoulder to resume firing, especially on the roof as the repositioned agents resumed firing at the lone Vortian near their downed Captain.

"Stop firing, you idiot!" Seros yelled. "Caltrop, bring up the AT!"

Holding back her own snickering laughter, Aero cleared her throat. She had a facade to maintain. They were none the wiser of who was inside of one of their own vehicles. As far as the Vortians were concerned, they were among their own ranks, fending off the Irken.

"Only idiot here is you, spook!" Aero played her part well. "Rumor is SIS planned on blowing us all up to spite the Irken! Melting down our own power plant and nuking us?! You're just as bad as they are! Traitors! All of you!"

"Oh you foolish regulars, you forget yourself." Seros coyly responded only for Vard's gunner console to light up indicating a missile threat from a freshly fired rocket.

"Incoming!" The short-statured Sergeant barked to Aero near the front of the hull.

Quick to react, Aero threw the vehicle into reverse and smashed the accelerator. The ancient machine of war's fuel-cell engine roared, causing the vehicle to lurch violently with its weight shifting so suddenly.

"Sorry 'bout the whiplash, but it beats bein' blown up!" She apologized over her shoulder with a sigh of relief.

"Take a sore neck any day." Vard huffed, returning his targeting crosshairs to the SIS team's last known position with the intention of keeping the pressure on them.

Though Aero was quick, despite throwing everyone else about in the vehicle from the sudden maneuver as the vehicle went into gear and out of the rocket's path, leaving it to slam into a parked civilian vehicle near their previous position.

"Good aiming, meathead." Euxine jumped into the channel, "You qualify at minute of barn with that?"

"You wanna come over here and say that, you short fatass?" Caltrop blasted back at her.

"Caltrop, reload and take out those traitors."

"Nice shooting, vlakas." Aero taunted, keeping them in view and prepared to full reverse once more. "Vard, our response?"

Hesa threw yet another empty magazine out the back after she loaded one of their magazines of high explosive incendiary rounds. "How about some fire, Vard?"

"Engaging." He followed up, depressing the trigger of the articulated joystick.

The IFV's autocannon barked to life once more, hammering out a tempo of large-caliber, high-velocity slugs. Slow, methodical, but deafeningly loud. Each visible impact on the building erupted into a brief flash of the shell's explosive payload and a shower of dust and debris. Even if they did not land on-target, suppression kept their heads down and the steady erosion of their cover would force them into the open.

Tha, under the cover of the cannon below, lobbed a grenade towards the agents on the opposite building with the help of her suit's strength enhancements after cooking it for a couple of seconds. Even without yielding a kill it exposed the three on the roof, including the one with the rocket launcher who she prioritized. A few plasma bolts to the side of Caltrop's head dropped him, but he clawed his way towards some nearby cover.

"Told you that head of yours was thick," Euxine chimed in at his misfortune.

"Also got a thick one that'd fit in your mouth if I ever get my hands on you, you useless aug."

"Less banter, more return fire!" Seros tried to restore his focus to those near him. "Koris, status?"

"Trying here!" Caltrop replied finished reloading his rocket launcher and fired once more on the IFV in the plaza, only to have his launcher subsequently meet fire from Tha's plasma rifle, rendering it useless. "Shit, launcher's down."

"Koris here, we're at the alley. Regulars are rushing into the precinct. One of Ohnmatu's is watching the approach."

"Clear to proceed. Drop the traitor." Seros ordered as he popped up to check on his targets only to be suppressed by Tha.

"Purple, Sarge here, be advised, ran off the last bunch that came in here but I got squads rushing into the precinct, out.." Zok called in on the radio to Haxx and Volx.

Another unfamiliar voice chimed in over the radio, "Shadow Stalkers, anyone receiving? This is Captain Amka, on my way to your position with Veil and Stalker teams. Approaching from your southeast. Going to support your guy on the roof, over." Fire streamed over not too long after that message from the rooftop on the opposite street, keeping the agents down with the combined fire from the arriving spec ops across the street. Though their attention was also diverted to VDF below, keeping them clear of that approach.

"Commander, Arbiter here," Tha got onto her radio to Vult's team, "Listen, we'll stay as long as we can but if more of your guys start showing up we'll need to get the fuck out of here. Last thing we need is to be caught in a clusterfuck of friendly fire." She paused to suppress SIS briefly before returning, "Here's a real short sitrep on positions, I'm here alone with Corr. Luna's in the shuttle with your medics, Sarge is inside the precinct with your demo man who's legless now. Nomad, Volx, and the gunner are about to tackle a flanking move by SIS."

Equal measures of relief and apprehension filled Vult as each transmission filled his antenna. Additional Spec Ops teams were moving to reinforce them, a net gain…but if any one of them discovered their workings with the vortians in any form, it would spell disaster for everyone and make this all for nought. Yet, relieving Ohmantu would leave them severely undergunned and outmanned with mounting casualties until relief finally came and established control of the area.

Double-checking he was on the correct comms channel and not self-sabotaging the entire affair carelessly, the Commander cued his radio.

"Arbiter, standby…" He opened, turning his attention to the rest of his team within the IFV. "Everyone fall out. This tin can isn't becoming our coffin today. Hesa, open the breach and stuff some ordnance in there to sabotage it."

"On it," Hesa replied as Vard moved aside. She opened the breech and withdrew a thermite grenade, placing it inside the chamber before pulling the pin and sealing it behind the grenade. A bang followed by hissing emanated from the gun as the intense heat sealed it.

Red team, as ordered, hoped to to quickly extract from the appropriated enemy vehicle. The rear armored doors swung open, thankfully to no visible VDF combatants waitingx for them. The artillery barrage was beyond effective and bought them another opportunity to breathe, however short. One-by-one, they all piled out, finding the nearest crater deep enough to provide limited cover and taking up a defensive posture around its circumference with their cloaks active.

"Arbiter, confirm visual on my position?"

Tha threw two of the grenades she took off of Corr before making her way to the cannon and scanning the surroundings on thermal. "I have you. Up and to the right from the shuttle."

Vult moved to the rim of the crater, scanning up and to the right. A thermal signature, likely her's. "Got it. Have your team ready to extract. Mine will relieve yours. Sure you heard the shift of fire, additional Spec Ops teams are moving in with the first wave of the offensive not far behind."

Pausing, he half-rolled to face the rest of Red Team in the crater.

"Aero, Vard, you have the Captain's signature?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Regroup on him, relieve Arbiter. Double-time."

"On it!" Aero hopped to, going as far to not even bother waiting up for Vard.

Instead, she snatched him off his feet and clutched him under her arm as she sprinted for the building beneath their beleaguered Captain. Under any other circumstances, it would have been beyond hilarious as she carried him with ease. Surprisingly enough, he did not resist, but instead kept his rifle shouldered, ready to engage if need be.

Vult prepped his radio once more.

"Arbiter, be advised, sending two of my guys to your position. They'll be coming up from below you."

"Copy that. Fire escape ladder should still be down for them." She paused before turning her attention back to the other SIS members, putting some fire in their direction to keep them suppressed along with Amka's team from the other side. "Athka team, our relief is here. Be ready to move out. We'll be surrounded by hostiles so we'll do this by stealth."

The Commander watched as Aero and Vard braved the harrowing sprint across the open plaza. Even cloaked, a stray round or piece of shrapnel could still be their undoing. Thankfully their equipment saw them through and they disappeared inside the darkened structure across to evaluate accordingly.

His attention briefly drifted back to their vacated IFV. VDF regulars were beginning to test their luck and push closer, some of them moving to occupy the vehicle that had been firing before the artillery strike. They would be sorely disappointed.

Switching his channels back to friendly frequencies, he felt it prudent to speak before more questions arose.

"Captain Amka, Commander Vult, Red team is moving to reinforce Purple team's positions at this time. We are currently surrounded on all sides by VDF regulars, irregular militia, and at least one SIS team is operating in the area. VDF numbers are overwhelming, supported by light and heavy armor. My team is not combat-effective. I say again, we are NOT combat effective and WILL be overrun. Whatever you can bring our way, send it, over!"

"Roger that, Commander. Thirty seconds, I'll get one team on this position to suppress a Vortian squad I have on the roof across from me and we'll make our way to you, over."

Machine gun fire erupted from the precinct while all this was going on.

"Sarge, respond," Arbiter called out over the radio.

"Had to gun down a couple of our own, ma'am. They saw me with Rha on my back."

"Fuck," Tha cursed, "Commander, one of mine and the Demo man need your help, precinct is swarming with militia."

"Planned on it, making sure my relief isn't hosing your backs." Vult relayed, looking to Hesa as he spoke. "Path of least resistance to your man's position?"

Tha looked down the roof to where the two are to get a grasp on things, "Down the street from your position, third building, go right in the front door."

After that, another radio message came in, "Boss," it was Kazak, "second artillery battery acquired. Mostly older guns but a couple new ones. Where do you want the support?"

"Standby, moving," Vult stood in a crouched run, motioning for Hesa to follow suit as the pair followed Arbiter's instructions. "Overwatch, any confirmed targets, send him coords, be advised, older hardware, beware danger close, confirm traffic, over."

About that time, the remaining Red team members made entry into the building and quickly fell into disciplined training as they transitioned and moved to clear their angles and watch their corners, intent on climbing each story until regrouping with Rha and Arbiter's man.

"Bolt here, will do, Red Lead, over." Mizak replied to Vult, sending coordinates of targets to Kazak and Vult and Hesa made their way through the station. Sending militiamen scrambling from the building or gunning them down. Zok and Rha were caught in the corner of a lieutenant's office. Rha, on Zok's back, with both his own sidearm and Zok's own aimed at a pair of militiamen armed with old ballistic rifles and bayonets fixed.

Climbing flight after flight of stairs in rapid succession, wary of their surroundings, the raging firefight floors above them saw Vult and Hesa expedite their approach. A sign that their allies were currently engaged and likely in trouble. The Commander, on-point, didn't even spare Hesa a glance or hesitation. She was trained and disciplined, a full-fledged member of the team. Trust was squarely there where it needed to be.

He topped another flight, seeing muzzle flashes briefly illuminating the darkened interior with the audible reports. Right where they needed to be. Close-quarters and lacking additional support from a full team, Vult transitioned his rifle to its magnetic lock on his back, trading it for his sidearm. Far more maneuverable with less bulk before him, he peaked the doorframe. A round fired, illuminating both of them. Horned silhouettes. Vortians. Two.

Confirming their targets, Vult silently slipped across the open doorway, opposite Hesa. His empty hand rose, gesturing "two" "armed" and pointed in the direction of the doorway before lifting his thumb to his throat and dragging it across laterally.

Hesa did much the same with her machine gun, changing it out for her own Vortian revolver as they made their way up. She looked to Vult's hand commands and nodded, withdrawing a combat knife as she gestured to the one on the left as her selected target. She made her way over, quietly, before securing the Vortian's head with her firing arm and dragging the knife across the man's neck. The other looked on, startled at his friend, inadvertently firing a single round at Zok, thankfully stopped by his suit's armor mode.

A split-second after Hesa neutralized her quarry, Vult did much of the same. The bewildered militiaman soon had a bright magenta lance of plasma from the Commander's gauntlet thrust through his chest from behind. Just as quickly as it formed, it dissipated, leaving their adversaries dead on the floor. Need to work on the timing a bit but he would take a win where they could get it right now.

"Rha?! Sound off!" Vult called out, watching for any additional contacts. Time was of the essence and they lacked the courtesy of moving slowly to clear.

"In here!" Rha called out from the room in front of them. He looked to the doorway to see Hesa move in, uncloaking. "Boy am I glad to see you."

"Rha, your legs-"

"Vortian grenade got me…Zok here saved my life or I'd be a goner for sure."

Watching their rear as Hesa moved to him, Vult did much of the same, appearing from view and retracting his visor. Hearing of Arbiter's man's actions to ensure Rha's survival brought Vult's attention up to the Vortian.

"Then he's got my thanks. You need to get out of here, regroup with your team. Spec Ops are moving in and the leading edge of the first wave of the offensive is inbound. Go."

Zok nods, getting an office chair upright to set Rha in for the moment. "Hopefully we'll see each other again."

"Yeah, I owe you a drink," Rha held up Zok's sidearm, the Vortian taking it before nodding to Vult and Hesa as he made his way out of the room.

The Commander watched Zok take his leave, assured his back was covered with Rha facing towards the door as he turned back to face him. "You're…taking this awfully well…or is that the painkillers talking?"

Rha took a breath, "Maybe a mix of whatever he stuck me with and the adrenaline of being cornered by two guys with fixed bayonets." Rha looked past them to see if anyone else was coming in. "Where's everyone else? There's a big relief force, right?"

"Preoccupied." Vult kept short beneath circumstances. "Beyond impressed how well you all have held your ground against the odds. We only need to hold a little while longer and friendly forces will be on us."

As he spoke, he extradited approximately half of his remaining combat load of power cells out of their respective compartments on his gear and handed them to Rha.

"Once they are and the situation stabilizes, we'll get you proper medical care. Think you can tough it out 'til then?"

Rha holstered his sidearm, grabbing his empty rifle off his back and reloading a much needed cell, as well as loading his underbarrel launcher with a shotgun style "grenade" cartridge. "Yeah, I'll be fine but not like I'm going anywhere."

Hesa peered out the door briefly to check if anyone else was coming. "Guess they thought there were more of you up here combined with our dramatic entrance."

"Hopefully. I'm down to two of these shotgun rounds before you two walked in here."

Hesa looked to Vult, "So what do we do now? He's not getting out of that chair with the condition he's in."

"Dig in and sit tight. As long as this building isn't coming down on us, its the safest play we have right now," The Commander deduced, checking the remaining capacity of his own power cell in his rifle before nodding with his head towards the doorframe. "Go appropriate enemy arms and munitions. Not leaving anything to chance on relief getting here soon."

"Got it," she started with the two dead Vortians at the door. Old ballistic weapons but good enough all the same. Then she'd retrace the steps she and Vult took to enter the building, returning with everything from cartridge guns to plasma rifles. A strong enough stock to hold out, even with a mixed bag of weapons.

While Hesa busied herself carrying out his orders, Vult spent a few moments preparing their ad-hoc defensive position. Anything to inhibit or delay their would-be aggressors in the form of overturned desks blocking doorways. He pressed the heavier-gauge cabinets that he could move against the wall and on their side, providing some semblance of concealment. His cybernetic fist clenched, smashing a hole through the interior wall before rolling Rha's chair up to it. A "murder hole", just for him.

The earlier engagement and sustained damage over the firefight gave him about a square meter of visibility all the way to the stairwell from this new position while barely exposing himself. Vult knelt down at eye-level with the legless Demolitions Expert, gesturing through this new "window"

"You see that stairwell from here? If it isn't Irken, I don't want it stepping through that doorframe. Think you can handle that?"

Rha nodded as Hesa loaded a belt fed machine gun and preparing some belts nearby just in case he ran out of plasma cells before relief arrived. "Got it, Commander. I see horns instead of antenna, it's getting blasted."

Vult gave his shoulder a firm pat with a nod of affirmation before taking a moment to assess the team via his HUD. Aero and Vad had regrouped with Arbiter, whom was taking her leave, and tending to the Captain. His vitals were strong and stable. He would live. The same could not be so easily determined with the ongoing surgical theater in the crashed ship as Rem hung on by a thread. To say everyone was under duress and highly stressed was an understatement, especially for the more moderately wounded of Haxx, Posa, and Volx. Even so, they stayed in the fight and relied on their training.

"Red-5, Red-3, Red-1," Vult began, watching from afar through the broken windows across the plaza. "Sit-rep. I need the Captain vertical ASAP."

Corr stirred, seeing Tha in front of him, trying to wake him before leaving with her team. "W-what?"

"Come on, you," she looked to Aero and Vard joining in the suppressive fire nearby. "Your other team's here, mine has to run or we're compromised. Your CO needs you. Or can Irken not take a nine mil slug to the helmet?"

After checking his neck for any blood and seeing none, he shook his head, still somewhat dazed from the impact and stood up. "Not bleeding, should be good." He partially opened the bolt of his acquired rifle to check it again, half a clip in, half a clip left in a pouch on his belt before he had to switch to his sidearm. "Thanks again for the help."

"Just don't die once we leave," she gave him a pat on the shoulder before getting on the radio, "Nomad, status, we're waiting on you."

"Go on without me," he replied, plasma rifle fire evident in the background, "I'll catch up."

Tha shook her head, "Damn it all," she muttered to herself. "All right, we'll hold for ten minutes after we arrive, after that, you're finding your own ride."

"Understood," Nomad replied, keeping up firing between himself and Haxx.

"Luna, Arbiter, time to move."

Vard took cover to reload, "Red 3 here, Arbiter woke the Cap up for us."

Corr moved over, tapping Vard on the shoulder to keep firing. "Commander, I'm down to two half clips of ammo on a mass driven bolt gun. Don't think our heavy cannon works now. Where do you need me?"

The Commander sighed with relief, wary to not get ahead of himself.

"Hold your position and provide overwatch. That rooftop gives you almost full line-of-sight of the plaza to cover the crash site. No heroics, if it gets too hot, fall back inside the structure and hold until reinforcements arrive. Didn't come this far to throw it all away now, over."

"Copy that," Corr replied, peering up over the rooftop parapet, taking aim at a pair of VDF troopers trying to move towards the shuttle, firing one round and startling them to cover, one with an apparent leg injury. What followed was an apparent pair of green footprints out the back and headed into a nearby building.

"I owe you one, Captain," Kali's voice came in over the radio, "those two could have blown my cover."

"Wash your feet somewhere before you lead them to you."

"Planning on it."

"Red Lead, Purple Lead, Bolt here, Deadeye and Spike have the guns zeroed and are ready to fire at your order."

"Wait one, Bolt," Vult interjected, quickly changing channels on comms.

Wary of his own positioning near the window, the Commander leaned against the wall near the frame, out-of-sight to get line-of-sight on the crash site below. His HUD had all three of the team's medics alive and…mostly well. Their vitals, while stable, were elevated well beyond stressed with Posa's the most concerning.

"Red-6, Red-1, sit-rep."

"Red-1, Red-6, standby…"

Sula, pushed well past her own limits of focus and physicality with her patient's life hanging in the balance, persevered through the adverse conditions of urban warfare raging around them. Rem, despite appearing a mangled mess of flesh, blood, and bone, was…stabilizing. Her vitals, while weak, were constant.

"...guys…at the risk of jinxing us…" The Medical Officer hesitantly began as she sat back, admiring their combined work. "...I think we stopped the bleeding."

Zutel, weary herself, gave a once over of their combined work. "Yeah…I think we did…" she let out an audible huff.

"Thank…Irk," Posa weakly commented, wincing at her mending face. "...so we can extract her now, right? Get the heck outta here and never come back to this awful place ever again?"

"In theory," Sula summarized, taking stock of the nightmare, morbid mess that was their ruined uniforms, cockpit, and soiled instruments and packaging of supplies all around them. "...uhh…okay…start gathering the rest of our gear up, get a litter ready back there. After I get her limbs secured for extraction, I'm lopping her legs off and we're gone."

Setting her colleagues into motion, she cued her radio.

"Red-1, Red-6…Purple-5 is stable. Prepping extraction now, over."

"Say again, Red-6, did you say Rem was stable?"

"Yes, Sir, she is stable. Short of disaster, she is coming out of this cockpit in the next 15 minutes."

Relief flooded Vult with a long sigh, resisting the urge to get ahead of himself in celebration.

"Excellent work, Sula. Once Rem is ready to be moved, let us know. We'll get you out of that ship and regroup to hold for reinforcements, over."

"Don't need to tell me twice, Sir." She concluded, carefully wrapping and slinging the critically-wounded pilot's arms in preparation for movement.

While Posa was busy, Zutel prepped her own tools for amputation, thinking she would need them. Once they were set aside, she joined Sula in making sure Rem was prepped to move. "Glad you arrived when you did. We make a good team."

"Yeah, well, don't thank me just yet. Not back on the ship off this Irk-forsaken planet yet." Sula morbidly commented, attempting to make light of the chaos of the raging firefight outside all around them. "...and you two helped as much as I did. Don't sell yourselves short."

Wincing at being stiffly confined in an uncomfortable posture for so long, Sula carefully maneuvered around the cockpit, allowing Zutel to join her while Posa finished gathering their gear and setting the litter up.

"Alright…neck's secure, arms secure, set the ribs, braced would we would so nothing pulls, tears, or breaks…about as good as it's going to get." She summarized, making sure any and all of the restraining belts of her pilot's seat were cut, undone, or out of the way. "Ready? I'm going to amputate both of them above the knee with my wrist blade, cauterize them in the process. Then you and Posa pull her out and on the litter, got it?"

Zutel nodded, quickly stashing her own tools aside since Sula clearly had something more efficient in mind. "All right, I'm ready, let's do this."

Posa, concluding with the last of their gear, made her way back to Zutel as Sula got into position. Wary of her own body or her allies to not risk further injury in tight-quarters, the Medical Officer's magenta blade crackled to life from its wrist-mounted emitter. Knowing the light source would attract unwanted attention the longer it was active, she quickly set to severing the pilot's legs.

Searing heat carved through armor and uniform with ease, the scent of cooking flesh following suit as blood boiled away from the wounds. One after the other, both legs were promptly separated from Rem's body. Sula immediately deactivated her plasma blade once the task was complete.

"There, she's free. Avoid moving her spine around too much and get her on that litter."

"On it," Posa nodded, looking to Zutel. "On three?"

"Yup," Zutel counted down, the surgeon and her understudy lifting Rem out of her seat and to the nearby litter before securing her to it. Not the easiest move in tight quarters but done without any detriment to Rem. "Let's get out of here."

Outside, an Irken SF squad made their way down the street. Captain Amka and some of his own men. Corr looked over the parapet to them, "Who are you guys?!"

"Captain Amka, Stalker Team, here to reinforce a Commander Vult!" The Captain yelled in response to Corr's question.

Corr pointed to the precinct behind them, "Help them secure that building, we're having wounded come over."

"Understood!" Amka's attention turned to his squad. Krad, take Xora and Phla inside and sweep the building. Lor, get to the roof and do what you do best. Zop, Mhar, out here with me, we'll secure the front door here until their wounded come over. I'll be right back." The squad took up their positions, an extra seven guns most welcome at the moment. "Commander Vult, Captain Amka, my squad's taking up positions here. General Vaukt told the tankers to put the pedal to the metal to get over here."

The initial commotion of multiple sets of boots pounding up the stairwell immediately put Vult, Hesa, and Rha on edge. Thankfully, there were no horns accompanying those footfalls, but antennae. Fellow Irken, Spec Ops at that.

"Hold, friendlies!" Vult barked, lowering his rifle as the Captain approached their prepared position. "You and your team are a sight for sore eyes. I'll save the details for later, just get your men in position to cover my team at the crash site. They're preparing to move a critically wounded patient and will need all the cover they can get."

"So your man on the roof across the street told me," Amka replied in reference to Corr. "I'm going to join my two I have outside and make sure they get in here." He looked to Krad, Xora, and Phla taking up positions at windows in front as his marksman headed for the roof. "We're all I could spare on such short notice. The other teams are doing what they can to divert the attention of the VDF and militia we saw swarming around here. Saw a few tanks on the opposite street on the way in, looked like they were about to get into a position to shell your gunner on the roof a couple buildings over."

Vult cursed under his breath. They managed to exchange one set of problems for another, but at the very least they had more firepower to contend with it. He could only imagine the sheer disbelief and shock of the VDF and militia should they ever truly find out just how many defenders they were up against and held at bay for so long.

"...alright, mark enemy armor and relay coordinates. We have fire support on standby,"

"Understood, Commander. Lor, mark those coordinates, get them sent to their fire support."

"Yes, Captain." Lor replied, relaying the coordinates to Mizak.

"Commander, just received coordinates from Sergeant Lor. Confirming that's where you want Deadeye and Spike to deliver the artillery?"

"Affirm. Standby." Vult prepared, opening comms to the whole team. "Everyone, be advised, friendly artillery strike imminent. Keep your heads down and dig in. We only need to hold position until the leading edge of friendly forces can relieve us…green light on the artillery, knock out those marked targets, over."

"Bolt confirms, standby." A few moments of silence followed as the three medics raced across the plaza with their patient towards the precinct, Amka and the two others coming inside behind them and barricading the front door. "Deadeye and Spike commencing fire then say they will race to support, Commander."

The distant thump of guns sounded, Kazak's acquired battery opening fire, a mix of mass drivers and the thump of old powder fired guns. The mass drivers hit their mark, destroying the armor pointed out by Lor. Although, with the older guns, some shells started falling short…much too short. Bad propellants.

Vult watched as the shells began to land. Flaming plumes of explosive wreckage would roil from the surface streets blocks away, likely enemy armor being reduced to a shower of shrapnel and twisted debris to further pummel the ruined buildings at either flank. Unfortunately, not all of them were on their designated marks as he watched buildings themselves be claimed in massive explosions.

Where the provided coordinates off? Had someone made a mistake? The shells continued to fall, closer and closer with decreasing accuracy. Whatever artillery pieces were being used lacked the accuracy desired assuming no other mistakes had been made. He watched in an odd amalgamation of morbid fascination and horror as one shorted shell landed directly on the crashed ship where the medics and Rem had been minutes before, completely obliterating whatever remained of its mangled carcass with explosive results. The sudden, roiling fireball and shockwave forced him to turn away as the exterior of the building was blasted with dust, dirt, debris, and shrapnel.

"Bolt, short rounds! Short rounds!" He called over the radio, keeping a vigilant eye on his team and allies in the area. "Everyone inside, now! Off the roofs!"

"Deadeye, correct fire, rounds are short, repeat, rounds are short! Compensate by eighty meters!"

As Mizak called out, Corr tried bashing in a door into the apartment he was on the roof of. After a few failed attempts, the Captain was promptly shoved aside by Aero, blasting the door's lock with her underslung plasma shotgun before kicking it open and running in, Vard and Corr on her heels.

Lieutenant Volx, despite contending with her own injuries, stayed in the fight. Exhausted, weary, and weak from her wounds, she had largely been the only force keeping the Vortians at bay from charging Haxx's position. A constant shuffling of position and well-aimed, meticulously precise fire gave the aire of force multiplication that the less-experienced or motivated wanted to contend with.

Being on the ground floor as the short artillery shell obliterated the crashed ship and threatened to take a good portion of the building with it, she hit the deck and covered her head as chunks of dislodged concrete, steel, and glass became high-velocity dangers themselves. Scrambling for some semblance of safety, she fumbled about briefly with her handheld unit.

"Haxx! Off the roof! Incoming artillery! Get down here!" She kept short and concise, only to involuntarily duck as VDF fire intensified on her position. "About to get overrun down here, need the help!"

"Fuckers got me pinned up here!" Haxx yelled and then coughed as he stuck just his overheating machine gun above the parapet and fired blindly. "It's four on two, I move, Nomad's done for!"

Doing her best to stay cool under ever-increasing, incinerating pressure, Volx scrambled deeper inside, attempting to find something more substantial for cover.

"Commander! Captain! Anyone! Anything you have, on my position! They're at the doors! We are going to be overrun!"

"We need to reevaluate our position first, Lieutenant." Corr was the first to respond, "If it's safe, I'll see about sending Vard and Aero."

Rha, meanwhile, looked to Vult and Hesa, "Maybe you two should go when the artillery stops. If these guys occupy the building I can watch their back."

Nomad took cover in the alley as some shrapnel and rubble from a round landing into a building across the street blew debris and hot metal shards down the alley. "Is that your guys shelling us or mine?! Either way, they're really bad shots!"

Volx caught movement from the alley and raised her rifle, only to see it was Nomad as he addressed her. A close call.

"Don't know, don't care, kills all the same!" She called out back to him, wincing as withering fire continued to shred the interior of the structure around her. "We need to get out of here, now! Where's Haxx?"

"He's still up on the roof," Nomad replied before getting on the radio. "Haxx, get down here, now!"

"Koris here! Seros, the shells are coming in right on top of us!" The four Vortians trying to flank Nomad, Volx, and Haxx were caught up in the midst of the shorted shells, same as the Irken.

"Then you better finish the traitor and those two Irken off quickly! Fall back to rally point K when possible"

"Unders-" Koris started, but was quickly cut off, a shell landed too close for comfort, blowing one of the four to shreds. "Move! Charge them now or we're dead!" The three remaining Vortians ran down the alley as Haxx threw down his now slagged machine gun.

"They're charging, Volx!" Another short shell connected, slamming into the roof near his position as he was about to switch to his sidearm. The shell, however, failed to detonate and crashed through several floors until coming to a stop embedded in the floor of the restaurant's kitchen. The sound of crumbling bricks followed as the portion of the roof he was standing on gave way with Haxx falling along with it.

He landed on his back with a thud, screaming in pain and surrounded by bricks as his now broken ribs punctured organs. He still drew his sidearm and fired blindly down the alley to force the Vortians to stop their charge either behind dumpsters or some alcoves of side exits. "I…can't take much more of this…" Haxx weakly sounded off over the radio, followed by a coughing fit. It took every ounce of will he had to keep from passing out from the pain.

VDF and militia alike had breached the ground floor by sheer volume of fire alone. One rifle alone could not repel dozens, no matter her accuracy and level of precision. Motivated by the horrific ship disaster above them and withering their foes through attrition, emboldened offenders pressed the assault, charging Volx's position.

Suppressive fire amidst a changing of the final charged power cell for her rifle, a young Vortian man in ragged civilian attire rounded the corner of the half-wall she had taken refuge behind. Even in the low-light of night, the constant barrage of plasma illuminated his gaunt, focused features all the same. Wrathful eyes of burning fury locked with her own. The archaic, mass-driven rifle in his hands rose, preparing to fire.

Instinct and training took over having her immediate perimeter breached. Her primary, lacking a power cell, was useless from her posture. She released it, allowing it to fall on its sling across her chest, dropping the power cell to the floor to free up both of her hands. Her right hand snatched her sidearm from its magnetic lock and targeted the Vortian man. No sooner than her sights crossed his body, she began squeezing the trigger. Her shots were true, stitching up his torso from the recoil.

Much to her dismay, he managed to squeeze off a burst of mass-driven slugs in kind. Whether it was reactionary or involuntary as he spastically reacted to the searing pain of multiple gunshots was uncertain. Two of the rounds splintered the floor, the third grazed the Lieutenant's upper left arm.

"Ahhh..fffffff" Volx seethed through grit teeth, equal parts agony as it was anger at the devolving situation. Another wound. Another liability.

She lacked the luxury of dwelling on it long. Expecting more attackers to follow suit, pistol clutched in hand, she began considering her options. That was until an awful, destructive din threatened to shake the building apart around her. Sections of floor and roof collapsed into the nearby kitchen. Clear as day at the center was an undetonated artillery shell. What luck. The shorted dud that smashed through several floors above was as much a blessing as it was a curse. Despite nearly burying Haxx alive in debris after sending him on an unwanted tumble to the alleyway, it brought a great boon for the short-statured Lieutenant.

The mountain of debris spilling out across the floor before her from the strike cut off the Vortians attacking her position. A literal wall of stone, brick, steel, and glass nearly as high as the ceiling. A little more time was borrowed, enough to make her escape as weary legs carried her battered body as fast as she could muster for the back door where she saw Nomad moments prior. A friendly presence was nearby and if they regrouped, some semblance of defense could be formed.

Formulating a plan on the fly, the last of her grenades was snatched from her webbing. Pin pulled and primed, she continued running, holding the explosive in hand. So long as the safety lever was depressed, the fuse would not ignite. Intent on leaving it in her wake and, optimistically, collapsing the exit behind her, she neared the waiting open frame.

Almost there…

Mid-stride, a mass-driven rifle slug smashed squarely into her PAK. The thin-skinned metal stood no chance repelling the round as the kinetic energy blew the casing and its panels apart in spectacular fashion. The sensitive, exposed inner mechanization of electronics, wires, and tubes alike fell victim to the shot. She couldn't see the aftermath directly, but something serious was wrong as she saw sheared fragments of polymer and metal alike scattering across the ground. The force knocked the wind from her and involuntarily released the grenade tightly clutched in her hand prematurely.

Stumbling, she fell face-first into the alleyway as more stray rounds over the top of the debris berm in the building as more Vortians crested it. The grenade, clattering to a halt at her feet, its safety spoon ejected, held her undivided attention. Breathing a challenge and her body afire with exhaustion, adrenaline alone kicked the armed device back inside as she rolled across the rubble-strewn ground away from the door as it.

The concussive force of the grenade exploding on the other side of the wall rattled her teeth and her antenna rang, but she wasn't vaporized into a green paste by her own ordnance. Think positive. Banking on the instability caused by the short artillery round, more of the above floor collapsed after the blast, blocking the door.

Relief flooded her tired form as she sat up, attempting to regain her bearings. Rifle? Empty. Sidearm? Last cell. No grenades. Where was Nomad? Where was Haxx? Where was-

As the Lieutenant turned to place a hand on her knee and rise, she froze in horror. A pool of bright, pink fluid lay on the ground…right where she had been sitting. Hesitant, afraid even, her hand reached behind her back for inspection. Sharp, jagged metal. Exposed wires ran through her fingers. Ruptured tubes pathetically flexed. Pulling back as if it caused her pain, she looked at her palm…the same pink, viscous fluid coated her palm and digits.

Her PAK was ruptured.

In the alley, a flurry of fighting; the clashing of swords, the sounds of suited fists meeting armor. Nomad alone against three SIS agents, one of which carried his own short sword, less reach than Nomad's naval cutlass but still deadly. Haxx, meanwhile, lay supine on the ground surrounded by rubble, groaning in severe pain, effectively out of the fight.

"Damned traitor!" Koris yelled as Nomad parried another blow. "Why do you like these bug men over us?!"

"I'm a traitor?! You tried to fucking nuke us!" Nomad punched Koris in the face with a strong left hook, his suit fibers glowing red as its strength mode kicked in. The SIS man's neck, by some miracle, wasn't broken, but the sword wielding Vortian was thrown several feet towards Haxx. The other two continued to engage the sword wielding Lieutenant with their combat knives, but now he held a great reach advantage.

The grim reality hit Volx like an FTL ship. Their lifelong devices of remote enslavement, control, and obedience that granted them life…and hers was destroyed. It regulated, filtered, and originated many major functions of the body, without it…

The commotion of combat nearby shook her from her daze. Nomad, embroiled in hand-to-hand combat with multiple opponents, was struggling to hold his own. Enhanced suit or not, he would grow tired before they all did.

Volx huffed to herself with a pained smile, shaking her head.

"...so that's how it's going to be, huh…" She muttered, picking herself up off the ground.

Back on her feet, the Lieutenant took off in a sprint for the melee. Her plasma blades activated mid-stride, preparing to join in and provide much-needed reinforcement to their Vortian ally.

Koris, meanwhile, shook off his daze from the blow to his head, pushing himself to his feet and getting his bearings. Nearby, the Heavy Weapons Sergeant lay helpless. An easy target, one less bug man. The black clad Vortian strode over to the man. The weakly raised plasma pistol easily ripped from his grip, crushed, and cast aside as if it was a child's play thing. Even unenhanced, the suits still provided a great deal of strength. He turned the sword downward, one hand on the pommel, preparing to drive it straight through Haxx's chest.

Helpless in the moment, the man shut his eyes and his hand remained up, weak, in some attempt to stop the impending death blow.

Intent on joining already, the separated SIS agent held her undivided attention. Not that he lacked any support from his squadmates, but she caught a glimpse of Haxx…and he was preparing to end him.

Her own imminent doom serving as motivation alone, she charged the operative full-bore. What more did she have to lose? Within a final stride or two, she lunged, seeking to drive her plasma blade through his chest from the flank.

Koris hardly noticed until it was too late…far too late to deal with the incoming threat as plasma split through his armor and suit fibers. A fatal blow received, his grip on the sword loosened as it fell to the ground. One of Haxx's eyes opened as he heard the clang of metal against asphalt and the sword coming to rest next to him.

"V-Volx?" He had no idea of her impending death, the current flow of bright liquid from her back escaping his notice.

As Volx and Koris fell to the ground, one of the two fighting the Vortian Lieutenant broke off. "Volx! On your six!" Mharo tried to warn Volx as the SIS agent switched to his speed enhancement to quickly close the distance as his combat knife drove into her already damaged PAK.

The short-statured irken attempted to turn and face her cowardly attacker, but the speed at which he moved was too quick for her to react in time. His vibroblade carved a deep, gnarled swath through circuitry, wires, and tubing alike, severing components and jagged shards of casing off in the process. The steady pitter-patter of coolant became a letting torrent streaking down her back to the ground at her feet. He may not have found flesh, but a decisive blow was struck nevertheless as she stumbled off-balance and fell to the ground.

And that's when something tripped in Haxx. Pain immediately replaced by a rage that burned with the fury of a sun about to go supernova. "NO!" He grabbed the sword off the ground and sprang to his feet. Knife kicked from the man's hand as he drove the sword down through the suit fibers, right down the Vortian's neck as the sheer force from the enraged Irken sent him to his knees, allowed to fall to the ground only when the sword was effectively sheathed in flesh. Haxx glared in anger at the dying agent. He tried to make his escape, the sword wielding Vortian blocking his path out. He changed targets, instead heading right for Haxx, now unarmed.

Whatever hope remained that the damage wasn't fatal was squashed after the stroke of the vibroblade. Her PAK was no more. Gone. Its destruction had sealed her fate and left the onyx-eyed woman on borrowed time. Life measured in minutes at best, left for her to decide how to wisely spend them.

Rather than lament her imminent end, she sought retribution. To make it count, as it were. Rapidly rising to her feet on a renewed second wind, Volx moved to intercept the SIS agent intent on striking Haxx. He wouldn't retrieve the blade from his most-recent kill in time to block or counter. That left her and her alone in contention as booted feed pounded the pavement. Her approach got his attention, adjusting to prepare for her strike. A tiny, insignificant thing that got lucky. Battered, bruised, bloodied, and now set to expire in short order, whatever challenge she had to offer was no match.

Reading her conviction like an open book, the SIS agent's posture shifted, his off-hand open parrying Volx's intended strike. Stepping forward into her fast-approaching body, he violently thrust upward, driving the vibroblade in his right hand to the hilt, squarely into the center of her chest.

The Lieutenant's body carried momentum, but the knife and the agent held her fast as her limbs struggled to find purchase. A burning-hot lance of spiked agony overrode all other senses as she gasped in shock. Her blades deactivated, palms attempting to find purchase on the SIS Agent to remain upright as her legs threatened to give beneath her. Emerald blood trailed around the embedded blade, running down the front of her uniform to fall in droplets at her feet. Pink coolant pooled in tandem several inches behind it.

If she hadn't known she was dead before, she did now.

Haxx snarled as he witnessed the sight, helpless to act. Looking down at his most recent kill, he grabbed the agent's holstered sidearm and drew it. Without a second of hesitation, he took aim and emptied the entire magazine of the mass driven pistol into his target until the slide locked back, advancing all the while. Mharo joined with his plasma pistol, now in his off hand, as he closed the gap. Haxx cast aside his expended pistol and kicked the wounded agent down to the ground, holding a foot on his neck as his Vortian ally ran him through with his sword.

The move only earned him a shove from Haxx.

"He was supposed to be mine! He was mine to kill! Not yours!"

Nomad blinked behind the mask's visor. "What are you talking about? You were unarmed!"

"Did you not see what he did to Volx?!" His attention quickly shifted to the downed woman, kneeling beside her.

The impromptu revenge blasting of the agent, while well-deserved, ended with the embedded knife being released and any source of stability lost. She collapsed to the ground in a heap on her back, looking up at the fire-choked night sky.

"Ha-...Haxx," she coughed, struggling for breath as a weak hand struggled with the clasps of her helmet.

Haxx scooped her up into one arm, undoing her helmet for her. "C'mon, Volx, stay with me. You can't die. You didn't get permission to die from the Commander." He tried to keep her spirits up, holding out some faint glimmer of hope. Even if the coolant now staining his pants and sleeves would say otherwise.

Mharo also knelt down beside the pair, holstering his sidearm though he kept his sword in hand.

"Mharo, why are you still here?!" Haxx looked right at him. "Get out of here!"

The Vortian looked at Haxx briefly before he held a hand out to Volx. Maybe this would be his only chance. "Can you forgive me for what happened back on Praxxus?"

Free of her helmet, features drawn tight in confused agony, she huffed a pained laugh.

"...dying…an' you want…forgiveness…get this…knife…out of…chest…forgiven."

He nodded, sword going to the ground briefly as one hand came to rest on her form and the other on the knife, taking it straight back with a strong yank, enhanced by his suit, trying to do as little damage as possible as he withdrew it, casting it aside before picking his sword back up. "You saved my life back there. Me, of all people."

Expecting the second shock of pain, she still gave a strangled, gasping yelp as the blade wretched from her chest cavity. The bleeding increased, but what was the difference? At least she could breathe uninhibited now.

"Not much…of a choice…" She attempted, coughing with a wince. "Someone…had to save your c'hurtas."

Nomad took one of her hands in a suited one, briefly. "As fierce as I remember, maybe I'll pay you back in the next life."

"Mharo," Corr came in over his radio, "the tanks are sixty seconds out. Get out of here, now."

He took one last look at Haxx, in tears, rage still filling his eyes. He didn't say a word, he just got up and ran.

Left in the Heavy Weapon Sergeant's arms, they were now alone. The din of battle continued on, but a shift was taking place. More plasma weapons. More ordnance. The sounds of Empire mechs, armor, and artillery making short work of the remaining VDF in the area. Surrounded by the fruits of their labors of multiple fallen SIS agents, her head rolled into Haxx's chest, looking up at him.

"Hey…" she hoarsely beckoned, a shaky palm rising to rest at his cheek. "...sstilll…here. For a little…while."

"Don't die on me, damn it." He choked up, the obvious mortal wounds staying otherwise. "The others still need you. I still need you. You can't go out like this."

"Haxxy…" Volx trailed, doing her best to focus on his face through her labored breaths. "Remember…what I sa-" she coughed, a shock of spittle and blood coming up with it, spattering across her chin. "...said…Haven?"

"That…it would all click?" He frowned, "I didn't think you meant it like this." Maybe it was the other thing. "How can I be brave?! I was laying there useless and they…they killed you!" His fury turned inward, blaming himself for losing her.

"Hey…shhhhhhh," She attempted. "...was already…gone. PAK…gone…Made sure…one of us made it."

A pained smile graced her bloodied lips, her other hand trailing up to his chest.

"Must really…like you…to die for you…heh."

He couldn't even get another word out, his mind overcome with grief. He looked her in the eyes, tears flowing from his own. Is this what it was like to see someone you cared for die without the programming to shut out the pain?

But Volx wasn't just anyone.

"I wanted to spend my life with you." He finally spoke, softly, sounding defeated, forlorn, losing someone so close to him like this.

Even as life slowly ebbed from her own body in his arms, her features twisted into one of pained sorrow. Feeling his body racked with grief hurt her more than the sunken chest wound. Another round of labored coughs produced more blood as she struggled for breath. It tasted awful.

"No-...No one else…I'd rather spend…my final moments with." Volx smiled up at him, teeth a sickly shade of green. "...stay strong…focused…they need you…don- don't beat…yourself up."

"I…I can't be you." He held her tighter, planting a kiss on her forehead. A few tears fell on her cheek as he did. "How can I be? You're…you."

The gesture of affection had a similar effect on Volx as her onyx eyes welled with tears.

"Be…you…" She struggled, voice breaking as she shivered in his arms. "C-cold."

He held her tighter to him as his eyes clenched tightly. "Please, no, please…give me more time with her." Who he was pleading to was anyone's guess. Some gut instinct that maybe some miracle would save Volx from death. Anything was worth a shot in this grief stricken moment. "I can't lose her like this."

"S-still here…idiot." Volx attempted humor despite her mortality, sighing. "...but you're…my idiot."

Words escaped him for a moment. What else could he even say? His brain couldn't focus. All he could think was to plead with whatever was out there in some vain attempt to see that she doesn't die on him. His mind clicked, something he heard the Vortians say before. It seemed genuine…and they got the concept of whatever this sort of attraction was between them.

"And…your idiot loves you…you…you…c'hurta riding hardass." He was hoping he could at least give her another smile before the inevitable he couldn't bargain or plead his way out of came.

"I know…your…hardass…commanding officer…loves you too." She cheekily met out, her face tightening into a more stern expression. "Promise me…that you'll be happy. Whatever…makes you happy. Do it. For you."

A sudden, violent cough brought up an alarming amount of blood. Down her chin and features, spattering onto Haxx's chest, she winced.

"Fff…hah…" Her hand at his chest slid down, struggling in vain to wipe the mess away from her mouth. Motor skills were becoming lost upon her.

"Anything…anything for you, I promise…even if it takes a while to recover from this…I'll do it." He kissed her forehead once more. "I'm sorry I couldn't do better."

"No…regrets." Her eyelids felt heavy. "Stay…with me…please."

"I'm not going anywhere…not now." Even as she slipped from this mortal coil, there was a brewing rancor under the surface. One that desired to kill every single Vortian in SIS before this was all said and done with. They took her from him…and he'd see them pay. "...Not as long as you're still here."

She held up her bloodied palm, quivering with effort. "H-hand…give."

He brought up one of his hands and held her's tightly.

Barely able to muster strength in return, its familiarity and warmth was enough. She clutched it, allowing their intertwined digits to rest on her own chest. Her breathing labored, gurgling, consciousness was slowly beginning to ebb. Pushed well beyond her physical limits and ichor pooling around them, it was time to rest. She earned it.

A lull of silence overcame them. What else could be said? What else could be done? All that remained was the bitter inevitability. She could only enjoy his company to the fullest until then.

Despite her worsening condition, a scoff of a pained laugh escaped her lips.

"...can't…be-believe…me and you….wouldn't…have it any other way."

"Y-yeah…weirdest pair on the ship…" He huffed, trying to smile but it eluded him at the moment.

"I'm…tired, Haxxy…need to rest."

As she spoke, her eyelids fluttered. The struggle to keep them open was a lost cause.

"...a kiss goodnight?"

Haxx leaned in, planting a kiss on Volx's cheek. "If there's another side…I hope I'll see you there."

Her black eyes closed, a small smile on her face. "Mmm…I'll…ssave a seat…foryou. Don't keep…me…wait…ing…'night…Haxxy."

The Lieutenant's chest rose and fell as it had so many times before, but with her next exhale…her entire body relaxed in his arms as the breath escaped her lips. The palm at his cheek slipped away, falling to lay across her body. The hand holding his own fell out of his grasp, limply hanging. Her head rolled away all the same. Her visage softened, features relaxing. No more pain. No more suffering. Only peace. The macabre mess surrounding them betrayed what looked like nothing more than slumber. A pale, limp woman in the arms of her lover.

Had Haxx still had his helmet and its HUD functioning, it was at that moment her vitals flatlined. A piercing auditory alert and flashing notification sent to the rear of the team. Even before they would ever lay eyes on her, they knew. Haxx didn't need his gear to know that.

"Vard, c'mon! They're over here somewhere! I hope they're not buried!" Aero's voice echoed from one of the buildings.

Silence overcame him for several moments before his head turned skyward and a scream escaped him. Rage, sorrow, a fury of emotions all rolled into one, lasting for some time before he broke weeping, holding Volx's lifeless form in his arm.

The blood-chilling scream of anguish quickened Aero and Vard's search as they bounded over rubble and debris alike. Eventually, they crested the partially-collapsed roof to see Haxx…and Volx in his arms…oh no…

"There they are!" She called out, all but dragging the shorter male in tow as they descended the rubble pile.

"Aero, wait!"

His call fell on deaf antennae as she slid down to the bottom, dashing up to them. Only once she was closer did she slow and begin to take in the brevity of the scene around them. The dead SIS agents…the coolant…the blood…

The tall, willowy female removed her helmet, a pained expression of disbelief twisting her pink eyes as she drew closer. No, no, no, this isn't happening. She was just resting! She had to be! They were all tired! Haxx's wailing cast doubt away, leaving the harsh facts of reality bared for all to see.

Haxx said nothing, only continuing to drown in his sorrow, pulling Volx closer to him. Inadvertently revealing to Aero the extent of the damage done to the fallen Lieutenant's PAK. There was no coming back from that sort of carnage. She was gone.

Whatever optimism she held quickly faded away as Haxx clutched the Lieutenant. Aero got an unobstructed view of the state of her PAK. A mangled, gnarled mess that no amount of battlefield medicine or repairs could ever hope to restore. Not even Vard in his seemingly-infinite capabilities could fix that.

The First Sergeant stood, stunned silent. What could she possibly say? Tears welled up in her own eyes at Haxx's lamenting, his grief infectious. Another side-effect of being permitted independence in will and thought: empathy. What could she do? Unsure, she walked around to his side and kneeling to embrace him. Hugs were nice. Hugs made her feel better.

Hugs made everything better…right?

Corr looked down from the unstable roof above and surveyed the scene. Three dead SIS agents. Haxx crying. Aero clinging to her comrade, joining him in mourning. Vard standing idle, fixated on them all, in disbelief. Volx motionless in Haxx's grieving arms, her face sickly pale and a pool of blood and coolant mixing into a psychedelic scene of horror.

The realization that all of what they've been through hit Corr like a speeding cargo truck. His borrowed rifle fell from his grasp at his feet as he stepped back until he hit an AC unit and then he slid to the ground. This crazy detour of his just cost Volx her life…He threw his helmet off and his hands covered his eyes as he wept.