"It is pardonable to be defeated, but never to be surprised"

Frederick the Great

Chapter 6—Ambush

The training exercise had barely lasted four hours and Jaune already hated it. At first light they had been dragged out of bed (some of them literally) and had piled onto a cramped bullhead. Then came a harrowing journey where Jaune had promptly thrown up mere minutes into it. The first few times his section had good naturedly mocked him. By the last time everyone had cleared a three-metre radius around him and had stuffed whatever clothing they could against their noses. When the bullhead finally touched down in a clearing somewhere north of Vale and everyone had poured out gasping for fresh air, Cat had had to be held back to prevent her from throttling Jaune right there and then.

Next, they had been briefly introduced to two other sections who had arrived on a bullhead which had left sometime earlier, so that all in all they made a platoon of around thirty men. Then for no particular reason that Jaune could grasp, Jaune and the others had been forced to dig narrow trenches around their makeshift camp for an hour of what Sarge called an 'all-round defence'. It was a miserable affair. Jaune's trench had filled with water from some unknown source five minutes in, so that now Jaune knelt in what resembled a bog. His rifle seemed even heavier than usual. The hot sun blazed relentlessly onto his back, making him sweaty and uncomfortable. His armour, which he had worn under his combat uniform, dug into his back and attempted to drag him down into the mud. Even Crocea Mors, which hung from his hip, seemed intent on jabbing him no matter how he tried to arrange it.

Jaune shifted in his slit trench for what felt like the millionth time. He glanced left to see Phil a few meters away in an equally uncomfortable hole. Beyond Phil was Finn, complaining yet again, and even further Jaune could make out the distinct purple and blue heads of Buzz and Naomi. The rest of the squad sat or crouched beyond them. To Jaune's right was a man from a different section called Angus, but who everyone called Goose because of his abnormally long neck and pouty lips.

Jaune settled himself down and prepared for a long wait.

For the first time since arriving, Jaune could appreciate the scenery. He had dug his foxhole towards the edge of the clearing, meaning the bullhead was behind him. The forest in front of him was a vibrant green, with hints of pink, purple and white flowers peeping through. The trees were alive with sounds. He'd been in the city so long he'd forgotten how beautiful the song of nature was. Jaune closed his eyes to enjoy it. Humming insects. Chirping birds. A rustle of dancing leaves. A deep humming sound. The scurrying of some small ani-

Wait a minute. A deep humming sound? Jaune opened his eyes and listened intently. There, under all the other noise, some kind of motor or engine was rumbling away. It seemed to be coming from the forest. No, wait, not the forest. The air above it. What on Remnant could that be?

Jaune sat up, fully alert and listened once again. The sound seemed to be coming closer, and now Jaune could hear an electric whirring accompanying it. It didn't sound like something from a forest. It didn't even sound like Grimm. It sounded… mechanical.

Jaune's gut clenched uncomfortably. He couldn't explain the feeling, but somehow, he knew something was wrong. Hurriedly, he turned to Phil.

"Do you hear that? That sound?" Phil listened for a second, before nodding.

"It kinda sounds like a, like an airship." The sound was much louder now, easily audible to everyone around.

"Looks like the military decided we could do with some extra company, eh?" piped in Goose, his grin revealing dirty, uneven teeth. "Let's wave 'em in."

Jaune's eyes were locked onto the sky. Whatever it was would reveal itself from there. His eyes scanned the treetops desperately.

There! A bullhead tore out of cover over the forest, engines screaming. The uneasy feeling in Jaune's stomach became a clawing monster, but his rational side still couldn't see any reason to be afraid. It was just another shipment of troops for the exercise.

"Oi!" called Goose, standing out of his trench and waving his hands over his head, "come join the par-!"

An ear-splitting screech tore its way from the aircraft and a storm of bullets smashed into Goose. His body jerked, head snapping back. Spouts of red mist flew from his torso. His carcass was tossed backwards like a ragdoll, slamming into the ground with a wet crunch.

Jaune dived down in his trench as the ground around him erupted in a frenzy. Dirt was hurled into the air as bullets slammed into the earth. Jaune jerked and writhed as sledge hammers pounded mercilessly into his back.

A split second later it was over, the bullhead roaring over his head. Jaune was left panting in his hole, every part of him in excruciating pain. What was happening? This couldn't be real. It was just a training exercise. But if so, why was there a bullhead trying to tear him to pieces. Clumsily, he patted himself down, finding no injuries. He was too shocked to even be thankful for his aura.

Jaune dragged himself out of his hole and crawled over to where Goose lay, needing to see for himself that this was real, that this wasn't just some cruel trick by the senior officers.

When he reached the mangled corpse, he wished he hadn't. Goose's chest was a gaping bloody hole. His eyes were wide, unseeing. His grin was still plastered to his face.

Jaune turned and threw up. His head hovered mere inches above the vile vomit on the ground. His whole body was shaking. He just wanted to curl into a ball and cry. This wasn't supposed to happen. This couldn't be real.

Empty, lifeless eyes mocked Jaune's pitiful denial.

"There's something in the forest!" Aiden yelled. Jaune's head jerked up to see what could possibly have caused the wolf Faunus to shout.

That movement saved his life.

Something whizzed by Jaune, centimetres from his face. It blasted the ground where Jaune's head had previously been.

Jaune launched himself to his feet, his muscles suddenly free of the paralysis that had kept them pinned in place. They were under attack! Holy Oum there were people in the woods and in the air trying to kill him! Jaune's confidence broke. His breathing tore its way out of his throat in sharp pants. His measly week of training could never have prepared him for this. There was no way he could survive. He was going to die. He was going to die.

Jaune was swamped by screams from all around. Cries of shock. Yells of pain. Pleads for help. It was a deafening cacophony of men and women scared out of their minds. Somehow, out of the clamour, Jaune was able to pick up one, faint voice shrieking something.

"GET TO THE BULLHEAD!"

Jaune spun towards the voice and saw the airship that had taken them there with its side doors flung open. A soldier stood on the threshold, desperately beckoning anyone who could see him to get onboard. Other men and women were already converging on their only source of escape. But the bullhead couldn't carry everyone.

Jaune didn't think. He ran.

A second shot flew past him. His heart thumped against his chest. His breath came rushing out in desperate pants. Only one thought was clear in the muddy terror of Jaune's brain.

He had to reach the bullhead.

Jaune heard an airship's engines building towards another crescendo, but it wasn't the one on the ground. The enemy bullhead was coming back! Jaune sprinted even faster.

Men were beginning to leap though the open bullhead doors. It was filling up fast. But Jaune was almost there. He could see it. He was going to make it. He was going to make it. He was goin-

A hand snapped out and snatched Jaune's foot from under him. Jaune went down hard, gasping in surprise.

An instant later the bullhead exploded.

Jaune screamed and threw an arm over his head as a wall of fire washed over him, sucking his eyes dry, singing his clothes, stealing his oxygen. A moment later it was over, and Jaune could only gape at the burning wreck of the bullhead that had become the tomb of so many people.

He twisted around to see Ash lying behind him, Jaune's foot still clutched in his hand.

"Idiot," snapped Ash, releasing Jaune's foot.

When the bullhead first opened fire, Naomi had screamed. Screamed and screamed and screamed, curled in her hole, defenceless against the primal, instinctive terror that gripped her heart in a vice. Even when the firing stopped, she would have kept screaming for hours had it not been for one panicked thought that broke through the fog of dread.

Buzz.

Weakly, she dragged herself out of her shelter and over to Buzz's hole, flinching every time a shot from the forest whizzed over her head. This was exactly what she'd feared would happen. Why had she let him join the army? Why hadn't she tried harder to stop him?

"Buzz," she called. No answer. "Buzz!" she shrieked. Her brother meant everything to her, everything. If he was dead—no. She couldn't think about that. Wouldn't. He had to be alive, he had to, he had to, he had to.

Finally, she pulled herself over the lip of her younger sibling's trench. Inside Buzz lay at the bottom, his hands protectively gripped over his purple head. Panicked eyes flew to hers, terror etched into them. But he was alive! So very much alive.

"Naomi!"

"Buzz!" wept Naomi in relief. She pulled herself into his trench and hugged him tight. She'd never lose him, she reminded herself. Even if she had to take every bullet on Remnant for him she'd take care of him damnit.

Their reunion was interrupted when the manic face of Sergeant Cole appeared above their hole.

"Naomi!" Sergeant Cole yelled, dropping into their already crowded trench, "what in Oum's name is going on?"

"Sarge!" cried Naomi. She'd never been so relieved to see the gruff old bear in her life. If anyone could get them out of this alive, it was him. "A bullhead just attacked us. There are people in the forest shooting at us. What'd we do?"

"You don't say," noted Sarge, peering over the rim of the hole. After a pause, he asked, "why aren't they advancing?" Reluctantly, Naomi joined Sarge in peering over the trench at the shadows that flittered between the trees, but she made sure there was no room for Buzz to do the same. "Why aren't they," she wondered. Now that she thought about it, the enemy had done little more than take pot shots at them from a distance, never risking leaving the safety of the trees. If they wanted to attack they could have done it immediately after the bullhead attacked, when they were all disorganised and disarrayed. So what were they waiting for? The answer to her question came to her in a flash, and it filled her with dread all over again.

"They're waiting for the bullhead to kill us all," she whispered, her face ashen. "They don't need to attack, because they're confident the bullhead can do it all alone. They're not acting as the ambush—they're the trap."

"So, the moment we try to run, they gun us down like animals," finished Sergeant Cole as he caught her meaning. He spat at the ground. "Fuck it. We're taking that sonofabitch down now! Give me some covering fire." Before Naomi could argue, Sarge had scampered out of the trench and across the battlefield towards some containers. Naomi turned back to the forest and raised her gun, emptying a clip at the phantoms which patrolled just within the protective borders of the forest. She turned back and saw the bullhead make another attack run, but this time it wasn't aiming to splatter them, so she ignored it.

She saw Sarge returning to them, now dragging a large box and a long tube-like apparatus with him. As he reached the edge of their hole, he revealed a shit-eating grin.

"Ready to take some well-deserved revenge?" he asked. Naomi nodded uncertainly. "Take this," he held out the tube-like thing to her. Except with a start, she realised it wasn't a tube at all.

It was a bazooka.

"No. No no no." Sarge just grinned at her. "I can't use this. I don't even know how."

"You're a fast learner. Besides, I'm a shit shot, so you can't be any worse than me. Just wait until it's nice and close, then blow that bastard's brains across Sanus. We'll cover you."

The bazooka was dropped onto her shoulder and a dust rocket from Sarge's box was stuffed down the open end of the weapon. This was madness. Utter madness. To get a good shot, she'd need to be outside her hole, standing still whilst a freaking flying death machine spat dust at supersonic speeds at her. It was almost suicide. Why was she getting out of the hole then?

The bullhead had completed its death run, and had turned around for yet another crack at killing them all. Naomi was practically shitting herself, but somehow, she managed to crouch down and take aim. Ok, ok. She could do this. Naomi had never been one to back down from a challenge. She just had to take into account velocity of the rocket, velocity of the bullhead, distance between them, angle of attack, gravity, wind speed, oh, and whether she was getting shot at or not.

Damn, that was a lot of factors.

She steadied her breathing, crouched down as low as possible, and sighted down the barrel. She heard Sarge and Buzz firing crazily into the woods. She hoped they were accurate.

The bullhead was closing in on her position fast. Its machine gun on its underside began to whirr and spin. The first round of high impact explosive dust hammered into the ground in front of her and began to skitter towards her. Not yet. Not yet. Somehow, she was able to clamp her legs still and prevent them from sprinting away, dragging her torso along with them. She released her breath and closed her finger on the trigger. Not yet. Not yet. Dirt burst up all around her as the flying demon bore down on her. Now! She pulled the trigger, and instantly the bazooka wrenched wildly against her grip as a thundering BOOM deafened her. She dropped the weapon and closed her hands over her ears, shaking her head to stop the ringing which rattled her entire brain.

When she looked up again it was raining fire.

"Yes Nuke!" bellowed Sarge, loud enough for everyone to hear, as bits of burning airship cratered into the ground around them.

Naomi slipped back into the foxhole, still in shock. She had actually hit it. Holy shit! Numbly, because she had no idea what else to say she asked, "Nuke?" Sarge just grinned manically.

"You've earnt the nickname, kid." Technically she was eighteen, but she silenced the urge to correct him.

"Nuke it is," she grinned, ecstatic despite the moment.

Phil cheered when he saw the bullhead brought down, then yelped as another bullet hit the ground just in front of his head. Aeron Wasp spat a dozen electric dust rounds in return, none of them accurate. Phillip wiped his sweaty, jittery palms on his trousers, before returning them to grip the yellow weapon once again.

Hot damn. Ok. So the ground forces weren't going to give them any respite after their small victory. Ok. That was hardly fair. They deserved at least a breather. At least a moment's pause. Still, he couldn't really blame them for not stopping in the middle of a firefight. Well, he could. And he would. But he would probably have done the same.

He threw a furtive glance around. Bounty was firing blindly into the woods, achieving nothing other than wasting ammo. Aiden was much more composed, a perfectly still statue except for his silver wolf tail which flickered subconsciously, sighting down his barrel and taking precise shots into the trees. More often than not, those shots were answered by muffled cries from the darkness. Finnegan was still cowering in his hole, whimpering. Cat was reloading, her usually cocky grin now uncertain. Jaune was-

Wait. Where was Jaune? His hole was empty. At least, Phil was pretty sure that was his hole. Jaune had been right next to him, hadn't he? Hadn't he? But where was he now?

Phillip's eyes glanced around frantically. Oh no. Oh no no no. Was Jaune dead? No, he couldn't be, there was no body. But why would he leave his trench? It didn't make sense-

There! Bolting back to them from behind was Jaune and… wait, was that Ash? Shaved head and muscly arms confirmed that indeed it was. He was racing along behind Jaune, dragging him down when they were shot at and booting him forward when Jaune seemed frozen with fear. Their hopscotching method was closing the distance between them and the line of trenches. They were almost back to safety. Almost.

A line of dark, cylindrical items sailed out of the woods and almost lazily, arced back down to the ground. One of them landed with a thunk near Phil and roll a little way. It stopped mere feet from Jaune and Ash.

A grenade.

Jaune froze. Ash hesitated. Phillip didn't.

Years of training Phil thought he'd forgotten came rushing back as he leapt out of his hole and hurled his body over the item. Phil's mind had just a split second to think "oh shi-!" before a colossal wave of fiery, concussive energy erupted under him, driving a fist through his chest and hurling the body of Phil into the air like a discarded toy. The ragdoll that was Phil smacked to a sudden halt on the ground, and didn't get up.

"Phil!" screamed Jaune, sprinting to his friend, only to find his arm jerked back in the unforgiving grasp of Ash. "What are you doing?! We have to-"

"They're coming out of the woods," snarled Ash, and Jaune could see that indeed soldiers were rushing out of the treeline, darting between shrubbery and whatever else they could use for cover. Beta section were blasting at them with everything they had, but it was clear they couldn't keep them back forever. The grenades must have been some kind of initial attack to cover their charge. "We need to stop them first."

"But Phil-"

"Phillip's dead!" Ash shouted, harsh, but not cruelly, "you can't help him. Now get back and hold the line." Ash turned his back on Jaune and raced back to his trench, trusting that Jaune would do the same. It was the logical thing to do. It was too late for Phil, but Jaune might be able to help hold back the enemy soldiers, possibly saving them all.

But Jaune couldn't just go back. Phil may have been dead, but if he was then it was Jaune's fault, at least partly. Whilst there was even a tiny chance that his friend was still alive, Jaune wouldn't abandon him. He owed him that much at least.

Without a moment more of hesitation, he raced off to were Phil had landed.

Jaune approached Phil's body cautiously, terrified of what he'd find. Phil was lying face down in the dirt, hiding the grizzly image of his destroyed stomach. His combat uniform was frayed and sizzled around his chest. His red armour had been burnt to soot black. Jaune approached even closer. Phillip's black hair was even messier than usual, but his eyes were closed and his face neutral, almost peaceful. Almost like he was sleeping. Jaune bit back a sob at the thought that Phil would never wake from his eternal slee-

Phillip's eyes flew open.

Jaune screamed and fell backwards over his own feet. The zombie blinked, then placed its hands underneath it and slowly lifted itself up, groaning as it did so.

"Oh man, that hurts like hell. Remind me never to do that again."

"Phil!" Jaune surprised even himself when he flew at his friend and enclosed him in a hug. "I thought you were dead." Then the realisation hit him. "No, wait, you should be dead." He pushed himself off and looked at Phil's torso. His clothing had completely burned away there, revealing the blackened and scorched breastplate underneath, but not the mangled gaping mess that Jaune had expected. But the armour alone shouldn't have been enough to save Phil. At the very least, he'd have all kinds of burns on his skin. Phil wasn't just alive.

He was completely unhurt.

"You have aura," breathed Jaune, finally connecting the dots. Phil simply nodded.

The dozens of questions Jaune wanted to ask were interrupted when Finn barged past without even giving them a cursory glance. Curses and threats came flying after him from Sarge, hot on his heels, as if they wanted to trip Finn up and drag him back. Jaune and Phil shared a scared look, then raced back to the rest of their squad.

They didn't get half way there.

The gap in the line left by the absence of Jaune, Phil and now Finn was swarming with enemy soldiers trying to get through. Evidently, they'd seen the weak spot, and were now trying to charge it with everything. Only the ceaseless, full auto shooting of Bounty was holding them back. The lunatic was standing on the rim of his hole, oblivious to the shots which were skimming past him, laughing manically. But he'd run out of bullets soon. And when he did, nothing would be able to staunch the flood of enemy soldiers.

Clearly, Sarge was thinking the same thing.

"Fall back! Everyone fall back!" he bellowed. "Phil! Think you can keep their heads down for a second?" Phil nodded, and the next moment he had his yellow weapon out and was spinning the crank like mad, blasting away and forcing the enemy to take cover.

Whilst the attackers had their heads down, his squadron scrambled out of their trenches and fled. By concentrating their forces on one point, the attackers were stretched thin, and the last thing they expected was to be attacked head on by a very angry and very trigger-happy Bounty. Within moments he had broken a gap in their defence, and Beta section rushed through towards freedom. Jaune sprinted after them into the forest. He had no idea what had happened to the other sections, but considering the circumstances, Jaune could have been forgiven if they weren't at the top of his priority list.

Jaune stumbled through bushes and brambles, tree branches whipping at his face, roots clawing at his feet. Around him the rest of Beta section ran in a disorganised jumble of bodies with Sarge leading the way and Ash bringing up the rear. Jaune heard shouts from the soldiers behind them, and ran even faster.

Eventually, he managed to catch up with Sarge. "What… what happened to, to Finn?" Jaune panted.

"He fled," spat Sarge, radiating fury in everything he said and did, "saw the bastards coming at him and decided his life was worth more than ours. Turned tail and ran." Sarge said no more, and Jaune ran on in pensive silence.

After a minute or so of frantic scrambling, Sergeant Cole suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Terry collided into him and bounced off.

"Why the hell are we stopping?" demanded Cat, approaching their leader. When she reached Sarge's shoulder, she cursed and looked around frantically. Jaune came forward, desperate to see what on Remnant could have caused them to cease their escape.

The entire forest disappeared before him.

A fire must have razed the area recently, because there wasn't a single tree in front of him for at least a couple of hundred meters, and the ground was charred and blackened. The devastation spread to either side as far as Jaune could see.

"What's wrong with it?" asked Buzz.

"We need to cross it, that's what," spat Sarge, "it's too wide to go around. If our pursuers are as professional as they seem to be they'll be making a wide sweep of this area. We'd be seen by one of them before we were half way around."

The raised voices were coming closer. Jaune glanced around, expecting a soldier to jump out and shot them all at any moment.

"So we go through it. What's so bad about that?" asked Jaune.

"There's no cover. The moment they reach this spot they'd shoot us all before we made it half way," growled Sarge.

"So we're all going to die," panted Terry, eyes wide.

"Not necessarily," replied Sarge, turning to face his section. His eyes were stony and his expression grim. "Someone needs to stay behind to cover our backs."

Silence reigned as what Sarge was asking sank in. They all looked at each other fearfully. But not Sarge. His gaze was set on a single point behind Jaune. Jaune followed his line of sight to find Ash's slate grey eyes locked back onto Sarge's. No words were spoken, but some kind of communication that Jaune couldn't decrypt must have occurred, because after a few intense seconds, Ash nodded once. Ash brought his boots together, straightened his back, raised his chin and shot a crisp salute to Sarge. It was the first time Jaune had ever seen Ash salute sincerely. The next instant he was gone, slinking through the undergrowth, little more than a silhouette soon swallowed by the wall of greens and browns.

"It's been an honour," whispered Sarge, returning Ash's salute to his fading back.

"I thought you hated each other," Terry revered.

"We did," stated Sarge. A beat passed in silence. "Now come on. We need to move."

No one said anything else as they ran over the charred ground. A few seconds later several shots rang out behind them, spurring them on. Unwittingly, as they dashed across the open ground, they began to spread out, each person alone in their own race to reach the other side before they felt hot dust slice through their backs. Before long, they had degraded into little more than a ragged line.

Jaune also found himself completely submerged in his own world, his companions temporarily forgotten. There was only him, the trees ahead, and the faceless terror that stalked him.

Jaune was within meters of the tree line when he was shot in the back.

"Not again," Jaune managed to think as he went down. His aura flared a brilliant white, before cracking and shattering.

Crap.

"I don't remember telling you it was time for a break Private," said Sarge, appearing in Jaune's field of vision and hauling him to his feet.

"Sarge! My aura's gone." Sarge grunted and shoved him ahead.

"Then you better run faster now hadn't you Private."

Sergeant Cole and Jaune sprinted into the cover of the trees and kept running. In the thick undergrowth, Jaune soon lost all sense of where everyone else was, or in what direction he was even running. He just kept going.

Jaune lungs were burning for oxygen by the time he and Sarge finally slowed to a stop. He fell to his knees and sucked in the sweet, crisp forest air. He turned to ask Sarge something.

That was when he saw him. One of the soldiers emerging from behind a tree. Whether it was someone who had been previously chasing them, or just a perimeter guard, Jaune would never know. The next few seconds seemed to stretch into minutes. A strangled wail began to rise from his throat. The clumsy, heavy rifle rose in his grip, too slow to beat the soldier's. He saw the soldier release a breath and sight down his rifle, too close to miss. Too close for Jaune to do anything. Anything but watch as the man's finger closed on the trigger…

And Sergeant Cole leapt in front of Jaune.

An explosion ripped through the silence of the forest. A split second later it was accompanied by a partner, and the enemy soldier flipped onto his back. Jaune looked down at the smoking barrel of his gun. He hadn't even realised he'd shot.

"Bugger," grunted the body at Jaune's feet.

"Sarge!" Jaune yelled, crouching down beside him. Sarge's combat jacket was rapidly darkening, far faster than Jaune thought was possible. It had just been one shot. Only one bullet. Surely a bear of a man like Sergeant Cole could take that and recover. "Crap Sarge, what do I do? How do I… what am I… just tell me what to do!"

"Do nothing," wheezed Sarge, brining his hand to his chest. When he removed it again, it was soaked in blood, but there was something in it. "You can't help me now. But you can help them." Sergeant Cole pushed the thing in his hand into Jaune's, forcing Jaune to accept it. "Keep them safe Jaune. Keep them alive." Jaune looked down at his blood drenched hand and recoiled when he saw what was in it.

"No. No. Not again. I can't Sarge. I can't do it-"

"You have to!" snarled Sarge, clutching Jaune's wrist desperately. "You have to. For… for them. Don't … don't…" Sarge's grip was slackening rapidly and his voice was weakening by the second. "Don't fail them… Sergeant Arc." Sarge's hand slipped to the ground, and by the time Jaune stood up, Sergeant Cole was dead.

He looked for another second at the blood-stained rank slide in his hand, then attached it to his uniform stiffly. When he was done, he looked once more upon the body of his sergeant, his friend. It didn't seem right to leave him here as carrion for the crows, or worse, but there wasn't much else Jaune could do. Besides, Sarge wouldn't want him to have wasted time for something like burial. Not when it would mean delaying his duty.

With one final, wistful look over his shoulder, Jaune disappeared into the forest to find his new section, now bearing the rank, and the responsibility, of sergeant.

*Deep breathe* OK, that's chapter six finally complete. This chapter was exceptionally hard to write (and not just because of how long it or, or how I wrote 1,500 words for it which will never see the light of day). This chapter should mark the beginning of a slightly darker story than how Sergeant Arc may have first seemed. I hope you guys will enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it (I may have had a little too much fun killing Goose and other faceless characters). Having said that, I did feel terrible for what I did to Ash and Sarge. But that was intentional, and it serves to give an important message - people do die in war. All the time. It doesn't matter how how strong you are, or how fast you are, or even good you are at shooting. Sometimes all it takes is one unlucky shot to take down the best. If even the two battle-hardened veterans couldn't survive, then what hope do a bunch of barely trained, poorly equipped soldiers have? Well keep reading, and we'll see. Things can't possibly get any worse for our protagonists, can they?

Thank you guys for sticking through such a long chapter, thank you for following, favouriting, reviewing or simply just reading this story. Tell me where you hope I take this story and what you want me to do with the characters. No promises, but it does help to inflate my already gargantuan ego when people post a review. Thank you again, and I'll see you in two weeks for the next chapter of Sergeant Arc.