Operation Black Dawn, 1995

by paynedotdll

1995. As the Cold War comes to a halt, GDI and Nod try to contain the spread of an infectious disease in Italy. However, as fate would have it, they wouldn't just be containing an infectious disease in Italy. As GDI and Nod forces disappear into Terra, they have to try their best to help everyone out. Even if it means sacrificing the ideas they fought for back at home. (TibDawn AU)

25. Special Operations II

Operation Black Dawn, 1995

Special Operations - Fighting in Purgatory

October 1995/December 1096

On the way to Chernobog

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"I'm a uniter, not a divider. Our strategy is to strengthen the intelligence community of the United Nations, and the peoples of all free nations, so help me God."

- Special Agent Shrub, International Security Agency, 1995

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International Security Agent 'Shrub' [Organization of American States - ISA America Divsion] - Mi-24 Hind entering Chernobog - Dated December, 1096

Flying in the skies on the outskirts near Chernobog, was an Mi-24 Hind. An old, but reliable flying tank. Once the fearsome dominant power of the skies during the Second World War, terrifying Allied soldiers and rebels alike.

Although as of 1995, the Hind was an old piece of equipment, a machine that outlived its prime. Yet, even with its datedness and decreasing arsenal effectiveness, it refuses to die. Rather than adapting to the times and changing equipment, the Confederation just opted to bring back the Hind, but with more potent weapons.

With its 30mm chaingun with high-explosives, multipurpose unguided rockets, and powerful anti-tank missiles, it could reasonably be used in counterinsurgency. Conventional wars were another story, but the Hinds found their niche sometimes there. However, they were extremely vulnerable to modern surface-to-air missiles and automatic cannons. A Hind upgrade proposal stripped the helicopter of its anti-tank weapons and several layers of armor to create a cheap COIN helicopter, but it went nowhere.

Most notably, its current niche was being used as a transport vehicle for GDI troops in the Russian Confederation. While it needed sheer numbers to be effective in a modern conventional war, it served as a good armored transport. It could reasonably fend off annoying APCs and infantry while allowing for rapid infantry movement.

It became an icon for the VDV due to its use by them in Operation Archangel, the evacuation of the Ukrainian Government during the twilight of the Ukrainian Civil War*. Hinds from the VDV provided cover for Ukrainian Armed Forces as they fled toward Rostov. There's a photograph around there somewhere featuring a Hind moving west contrasted with an ambulance moving east, symbolizing the VDV's efforts to ensure safe passage.

The Hind served as Russia's flying tank, and will most likely remain that way.

Even if its armament consisted of a 30mm cannon, two rocket pods, and old anti-tank missiles dating 1965.

In the helicopter itself, I remained. Special Agent Shrub, of the International Security Agency.

I was picked to serve as HUMINT due to my experience with infiltration and guiding small insurgent platoons. Ten years of serving in the International Security Agency had given me an idea of what to do in an operation like this. However, Petrov and Stanley still requested armored support. Petrov requested a standby reinforcement unit, while Stanley requested a tank unit attached to them.

The operation itself was conducted with nine soldiers, twelve crewmen in four tanks, and two attached 'civilian' personnel. Given we were a single squad with armored support. A small, relatively covert operations force. Sent on basically hostage rescue missions. Seemed pretty easy enough. But the ride was agonizingly boring.

The seats of the helicopter felt cramped as I sat with soldiers from the VDV. Because of the crampedness, I chose to sing away the discomfort of being here. A patriotic anthem a day keeps the cramps away.

"I've roamed and rambled," I sang into the radio, hands on my knees. "I followed my footsteps, to the sparkling saaaands of, her diamond de-serts," the song continued as the helicopter shook in the cold, dark weather. Some of the VDV men looked uneasy, with the exception of Petrov, who was merely unamused. Hey, hey! Trying to sing to cheer up the environment was the best I could do. I'm a Texan, after all.

"All around me, a voice was sounding-" The helicopter shook as it nearly avoided a bad lighting strike. "This land was made for you and me."

The song stopped when Major Petrov put his index finger up to his mouth and pressed it. Lowering it down, he nodded. "That's enough, Agent Shrub. We're almost there now."

"Aww, but the song ain't even finished yet." I protested, throwing my hands up in mock protest. I wasn't going to be very serious about it, but man, I just wanted to sing a song to make the briefing less painful.

"We're ten minutes away from the destination. It's time we do the briefing first and foremost. Be sure to reiterate what we discussed in the briefing area, alright?"

"...Alright," I mumbled, before ceasing the singing. I glanced at Petrov and spoke up again. "How many minutes 'til we're, uh, there?" I asked, glancing out of the Hind's windows to see rainy, gloomy weather.

"I'd say about..." Petrov said, checking his watch. Vladimir answered for him instead. "Five minutes. Give or take." He said, rolling up his sleeve to get a better look at his watch.

"Got it." I responded, rifling through my pockets to find the one I'd use to write things down with. Had to note down that we were arriving in five.

"What, are you the clock or something?" One of the paratroopers asked.

"Yeah," Vladimir snorted. "Used to illustrate children's art with my..." He stops for a moment, breathing in heavily and releasing it. "...Nieces. It makes me sad, thinking of them."

"...Still feeling homesick, huh?" I asked, looking sympathetically at Vladimir. I could understand the pain. Underneath that smile I put on, the smile I inherited from my dad... I just felt like I missed Jeb. He may have been a low-energy guy, indeed, but his presence in the family was... well, complete.

Now, it's just me and dad.

All alone.

"As much as I wish I wasn't... yes." Vladimir conceded, letting his head slump down. I almost pictured him sobbing, but I guess he almost got over it.

Almost.

"We'll survive, we're sure of that..." I commented. "Just... try to keep yourself together, Vlad, alright?"

"I'll try," Vladimir sighed. "I just want to see them again... someday..."

I was going to say something, but my throat itched. I couldn't calm it down, and had to relieve it. So, I coughed into the radio.

Two soldiers shook themselves awake after presumably hearing the coughs, but the rest just continued to slumber on. I was disappointed, but that's what happens when you get into a boring ass ride.

The helicopter ride from base to Chernobog had been mostly uneventful, and this caused some of the soldiers to fall asleep, occasionally waking up to see if we were there, but most of the time they just continued and lay back down. The environment outside the helicopter, meanwhile, was raining. Deathly so. it appeared to drown out the windows, covering them in vapor.

Even if I rubbed it and took a look, the damp coldness would just reform the vapor fog on the window. I frowned in slight anger. As if I wanted to see things outside the windows, but the rain wouldn't let me. I glanced back to the soldiers on the helicopter, waiting in suspense for anything to happen. The suspenseful silence was interrupted by Vladimir coughing. He moved to cover his mouth, trying to hold it in.

But I suppose that brought Petrov to action. As Vladimir was coughing, Petrov glanced at the radio located inside the Mi-24 Hind. "Oh, by the way," He mumbled. "Nyebo. Do you have any additional intelligence on this operation?"

Operation Chernobog Freedom had run into a roadblock during the trip to the LZ. As it turns out, our intelligence had been faulty, and we were to face additional problems. Ones that I had been careful to write down.

This is going to be a problem for a long time, isn't it?

I shook my head, snapping myself out of that thought. Better to focus on the current problems rather than sticking my head in the sand.

"No," the Helicopter pilot answered. "But I bet Shrub does." He continued. "Why don't you go ask him?" At the request of Nyebo, Petrov went ahead. Shifting his seat position, he stared at me.

"Comrade Shrub, do you have any additional intelligence on this operation? You do keep notes, so I want to know if you have any for potential threats around this area." At that question, I turned around to face Petrov and took my notebook out of my breast pocket. Opening it and flipping through the pages, I found my operational notes for this operation. The paper read 'OPERATION CHERNOBOG FREEDOM NOTES'

Written down, were potential threats or obstacles to the United Nations operation in the city. Glancing between the notes and Major Petrov rapidly, the things I wrote down were as followed:

1. Broken city limits tank movement - use tanks as carefully as possible, do not send them by themselves against Reunion

2. VDV camo not too great for this environment - stick to dark corners and alleyways when moving the squad

3. Helos and the risk of collateral - Hinds might cause collateral damage, limit to certain operational areas, like rooftops. Tell the Hinds to not use rockets

4. Prism Cannons are EXTREMELY deadly against buildings when deployed, use recoilless rifle mode sparingly or else collateral damage

5. Sattelite network downtime in ten minutes or so - we will NOT receive any transmissions for Command for an hour, we will be on our own until we return to base

6. Reinforcements - deploy them only when operation goes south, do NOT deploy them in a successful assault, we don't want bombers or spruts razing our objectives with willy pete and APFSDS

7. Operation ago - start of operation codeword is IRENE (everybody on the heli knows this)

"Do you want the good notes or the bad notes, Petrov?" I closed the notebook, putting it back into my breast pocket. I watched with a raised eyebrow as Petrov glanced outside of the Hind's windows, and then back to me.

"Bad notes first. We'll be in Purgatory, so I want to know what to prepare for first." He took his rifle and took the magazine off, tapping it against his rifle before inserting it back in. "Can't be any worse than serving in Kyrgyzstan."

"Alright," I raised my index finger. "One, uh," I glanced to the soldiers, then back to Petrov. "Our enemies are in a desolate urban environment, which inhibits them. And us, too. We'll be trying new ways to shoot at 'em, but they'll be doing the same."

"Two," I raised my middle finger. "Our uniforms aren't the best for this kinda place." I pulled the collar of my suit. "I'm wearing all black and a red tie, while Stan-" I pointed my thumb to Michael Stanley, sleeping calmly in the helicopter. "Is wearing nothing but a coat, pants, and a crew helmet," Then I glanced towards the VDV. Most of them were sleeping, but I and Petrov were awake. Though I wasn't sure how many were also awake. "And the rest of y'all Vee-Dee-Vee are wearing green digi. Not urban digi."

"Three," I knocked on the helicopter walls. "Hind rockets can kill our hostages. Only time we can use 'em is when we have enemies on the rooftops, and even then I'd want them to use the machine gun rather than the rockets." I tapped the notebook to prove my point. I contemplated drawing a Hind, but I didn't have a reference sheet from the net, so... nope.

"Four, our Prism Cannoneers are extremely dangerous to buildings and can cause collateral, I, uh, advise we switch to the cannon mode very sparely," I shrug. "Otherwise we'll end up firing SPGs and end up destroying buildings we didn't intend to shoot at." I made a 'sandwich' gesture with my free hand. "For example, a Tiberium silo. Or whatever the hell the local equivalent is."

"Five, our sats are going to be out of commission for an entire hour the moment we start landing. Best advise we start our raid by putting our, units in... LZ... uhh... Charlie-" I scratched my head as soon as I tried to remember the LZ name. I swear I had a map, but I lost it somewhere. "-And take it slow and smooth. Those damn terrorists can snatch victory from our jaws if we're not careful enough."

"And six, as for that..." I pulled out the radio I was issued to speak to the Command Network. "State Scarlet won't be available for an hour as soon as we start moving. This thing?" I pointed towards the radio in my hand. "This thing's going to be the catalyst and barrier between life and death. Be sure to call in State Scarlet when we're in the clear."

Petrov nodded. "I guess this will be just another day in the office, Comrade Shrub?" He leaned back. "Is that not an American statement?"

"Oh, no it is," I brushed in the air. "But I just dun' see that much people call a hostage rescue like this a day in mah office..." I mumbled. "We'd'a thought that simply sabotaging elections was just another day in the office."

"Well, Comrade Shrub, I suppose it's time for a strange day in office." He shook his head, before shifting himself to peek outside of the foggy window. To my surprise, he nodded and turned back with a small smirk. "We're landing."

As he said that, the light on the helicopter turned on and flashed red. The men in the helicopter shook themselves awake, with the flashing red lights presumably disrupting their peaceful sleep. One of the soldiers - an Efreytor with a Knee Mortar* - shook his head several times after waking up. "Did we land already? Is it time yet?" He asked, pushing his helmet up after it had slipped and covered one side of his face. He then grabbed the rifle and turned the safety off, turning to the right to see if the Hind doors had opened. They did not, luckily for him.

One soldier put his goggles on and pulled his balaclava up, another one opened his water canteen, drinking out of it, and a GDI soldier opened a pack of gum, taking one and chewing on it.

"Why'd you bring gum to this mission?" One VDV soldier asked - the name 'Dimitri' written on his helmet, and he was currently making sure his machine gun didn't jam. He removed the top cover and began blowing air into it before wiping it off with some baby wipes that he stored in his pocket. After cleaning the receiver and tossing the baby wipes away, he added more to his question. "I thought gum was an emergency MRE thing!"

"Because I'm trying to quit nicotine! It's a Nic-Gum pack!" The soldier replied - the name Oleg written to the side of his helmet. Oleg took another one and pushed it into his hand, stuffing it into his mouth and then chewing it rapidly. He then put the pack in his pocket. He then flicked the safety off his rifle. Not cocked of course, but just in case.

The Russian Self-Defense Force didn't have a truly unified escalation steps procedure. But most soldiers generally followed either 'rifle unloaded, magazine inserted' or 'rifle loaded, safety on' depending on the soldier.

"Anything wrong with you guys right now?" A Russian Paratrooper with the nametag of Ilyin spoke up. One of the soldiers next to him was shaking, gulping, and trying to cling onto his rifle's handguard. Ilyin turned to the soldier shaking and bumped him. "You alright?"

In response, the soldier nodded rapidly. "Y-Yeah, I... I'm, uh, fine! J-just..." He gulped a second time. "A little nervous... That's all..." He kept shaking. Ilyin path him on the back and looked at him.

"We'll get through this. Okay?" Ilyin stated. "It'll be alright. We'll all be fine."

The soldier finally nodded slowly, but not before gulping one more time. "We'll get through this... We'll get through this..." He repeated some more, hand tightening on

In contrast, however, one soldier - Kiril being the name on his nametag and patch - smiled when they approached the LZ.

"Can't wait to go kick some ass, I tell you-" He chuckles for a moment. "-What better way to kick ass than to save kids from a dastardly commune of insurgents? After all, it's time I earn my Confederation Medal for killing ten people." Kiril smirked, with an itchy trigger finger taking over his thoughts. It's best that I recommend these people for psychological evaluation when we get back to base.

"All units standby," Nyebo ordered over the radio. "We'll be landing."

"GET UP, LADIES!" Petrov banged on the helicopter walls. The sound got the attention of the paratroopers, who ceased their actions to listen to Major Petrov. He turned to the doors and pointed his thumb at one of them, then spoke. "We're here!" He stopped pointing his thumb at the window, moving to adjust his helmet chinstrap. "I want all of you VDV ready and active the moment we hit the ground! Reunion may be comprised of primitives, but they are cunning primitives! I trust you all in the VDV to know this!" As the helicopter jerked back to stabilize, he pulled back on his AK's charging handle. "If you shoot a Reunionite, you save a life! Got it?!"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good to hear!" Petrov shouted. "Nobody!" He shouted. I felt a little smile form on my face as the Russian paratroopers grunted in unity, before responding to the Major.

"But us!"

"Ura!"

"URA!"

As they finished shouting, the helicopter touched down with a rough bump, the impact throwing me off for a split second. In fact, I could've sworn that I nearly fell to the floor.

Would not have made me a good ISA Agent.

The doors of the helicopter opened, and the paratroopers rose up from their seats. A crackle entered the radio for a split second before changing to a French accent speaking in English.

"Irene. I repeat, Irene. Operation Chernobog Freedom is ago." The General informed, causing the paratroopers to grab their night-vision devices and put them on the helmet.

That was it, that was the start of the operation. And we had no turning back. Oh well.

As the message ended, I stood up as quickly as I could and pulled out the pistol I had holstered, raising it in the air.

"Listen up!" I shouted, banging on the ceiling of the helicopter. "Our objective is to advance northwards, take a west turn, then hit them by advancing southward! We're going to hit them from above, and I want them hit as hard as possible!" I pointed at the outside. "Our enemy is well-trained and well-refined in Battle Arts!"

I turned to face outside the helicopter just as lightning struck the ground. The wind of the bad weather blasting rain into my face, practically showering it. I wish I didn't feel as cold as I did, but that's the price I pay for sticking to the ISA's dress code. At least the United Nations shoulder pad looked cool.

"Do note, we face problems that limit us! Be sure never to misunderestimate your enemy or the universe's spite!" I said immediately before I felt the wind partially freeze my side.

"We have no idea about the manpower or patrol zones of Reunion, as our sats weren't able to track those. We're in the dark. Stay cautious, but engage when fired upon. Got it?" A splash of water coats the side of my suit. At least it's waterproof.

But my face isn't.

The Paratroopers nodded, responding with a combined 'Ura!' as they prepared their equipment.

Not even a split-second later, the light turned green, and the Paratroopers had stood up.

"Go, go, go!" Nyebo shouted.

I stepped off the helicopter, glancing off to my right and seeing a BMD drop to the ground, followed by a Sprut-SD. These were from Tank Drop*, a protocol from the Russian Self-Defense Force to requisition four airborne armored fighting vehicles for immediate reinforcements. These belonged to the 76th Guards Air Assault Division, a veteran VDV unit with a deployment to Sudan during the Hab'ib Operation.

"All forces be advised," The voice of Brigadier-General Jean Fitzgerald spoke over the radio. "Communications between headquarters and assault forces will be down as the satellite loses connection due to orbiting. Downtime is estimated to be an hour. Our best intel records a company of Reunion in the area, if not more, so be warned. Until communications can be restored, try to survive. Godspeed. Command out."

"Hah, a company if not more... I expect more than just a company." I mumbled, chuckling before pressing the earpiece on the left side of my head. "Roger, command. We are Oscar Mike. Out."

Turning my head around to face the helicopter again. Dimitri stepped off the helicopter, hand holding the PKP machine gun. "Sat's going to be gone for an hour?" He muttered, grunting as rain splashed on his helmet. The fact that he wore a visor to protect him from the elements probably saved him now, but he needed that off if he wanted to fire. Though he was better equipped on appearance rather than me.

I mean, a two-piece suit and a red tie wasn't the worst outfit on their own, but the fact that I was in a soon-to-be active combat zone made this choice of attire extremely uncomfortable to wear.

Thank god for Kevlar.

"Yes, Dimitri, you heard that right. The satellite will be out for an hour. Until then, we advance by ourselves and wait until Command's in the clear," A VDV Paratrooper with a Knee Mortar responded. The name Anatoly was patched on the front of his helmet. "We're the VDV. We can get out alive. After all, S' nami Bog." He flicked the safety off on his rifle.

"Tolya, why don't you pray to God for us? If there is one, I want to ensure he'll keep all of us alive." The cocking of the PKP is audible after finishing that statement, as Dimitri got ready

In response, Tolya chuckled for a little.

"Maybe later, Dimitri," Tolya brushed Dimitri's statements off. "Until then, just keep moving."

"Roger."

I turned my head back to watch the Tank Drop helicopters drop off two Sprut-SDs and two BMDs. The helicopters lifting them down then flew away, leaving the tanks themselves to move into position.

"This is Agat-11, in position. Ready to take on the Reunion menace."

"Copy, Agat-11," Nyebo responded on the radio. "Aurora-11 has been disembarked. Feel free to call us when we're needed. Out."

"Copy, Nyebo-11. We'll be sure to call you when needed. Out."

I chuckled at the conversation. The perks of having an English-speaking Russian Battalion as part of the Russian Contingent were the following; Cross-compatibility in comms, easier logistics filling, and trading stories about being in the Russian Self-Defense Force. In fact, a surprising amount of soldiers from both sides were English speakers. Fluent ones.

"Aurora-11 reporting. Squad's been disembarked. Landing Zone is clear. The weather's not clear, but serviceable, just enough to keep moving." Major Petrov reported, before glancing at the Paratroopers who fully disembarked from the helicopter. "Engines in check?"

"All clear, sir. Fuel Tank and Generators are filled." Agat-11 reported back.

"Good to hear."

I crouched down and took my notebook out to report my surroundings and write more notes. The waterproof notebook and pen ensured I was able to note things down even with rain pouring down. A dead sky didn't stop one from writing his heart's desire out, no?

A minute later, Stanley bumped into the radio channel, static in the background of his words. "Radio check... Uh... Hey, uh, this thing working? The radio on my crew hat didn't work for a load of time. Just wondering if I'm still audible." I resisted the urge to snicker. He had issues with assertiveness before, but now I could chuckle at his incapability of using a radio.

Then again, he's a diplomat. I can give him some slack.

"You're loud and clear, Stanley," I responded back. "Just reduce the input on your microphone. It's picking up the rain, for Christ's sake."

"Comrade Stanley, it seems like Comrade Bush is right for once," Petrov chuckled, replying. "Please reduce the input. Rain's going to clutter the radio."

"Ah, uh, right," Stanley responded before the noise in his microphone reduced. But simultaneously, his voice was a lot less loud. "This better?"

"Yes, Stan."

"Comrade Stanley, I confide with Comrade Bush."

"Gotcha. Thanks."

"Anytime, Stanley."

I glanced at the notes I wrote, trying to double-check if I wrote them right. Trying to flip pages with one hand was a pain, so it took me a minute.

CHERNOBOG FREEDOM NOTES PART 2:

1. weather is moderately low-visibility, enabling us some concealment even on alleyways

2. radio network is connected to local area network that has a range of give or take 4 miles

3. enemy is capable of using arts - types unknown but we can try to identify

4. dad's depending on me to come back - DON'T DISAPPOINT DAD

I closed my notebook, nodding and coughing to myself. I didn't make a gaffe this time, even in writing. God knows how much I'd make gaffes if I were to be the President. Dad's already the leader of the International Security Agency, and he got a reputation for gaffing.

God help me if I were to repeat this while being the President of the United States, or the Organization of American States.

"Alright, I guess this is it," Stanley noted on the radio. "Should we get moving?"

"Da. Nyebo, get back to base. The weather's too foggy to remain in, and Reunion could ambush you. Well, that and there's another problem with us." He snorted. "Sat's down, so..."

"I know that, Aurora-11." Nyebo deadpanned. "Just call us when you've gotten the hostages, alright?"

"Da! Take care, Nyebo! Out!"

"Glad to hear. We will, Aurora-11. Out."

I glanced at Petrov, as the men got to moving.

"Comrade Shrub, would you be so kind as to provide reconnaissance? Take Stanley with you, and radio back anything potentially threatening. We're putting ourselves at risk, and we won't have Command to back us up. Make sure he returns. Alive."

"Ah, uh, Shrub, are you sure? I could get hurt, after all..."

I frowned. No time for nihilism. "Can it, Stan," I responded, taking a deep breath and shaking my head slowly. "Roger. I'll take Stan. We'll try to ensure victory. We'll snatch victory from their jaws and put defeat instead."

"I hope you don't disappoint us, Comrade Shrub."

"No worries, you don't have to step up to me and tell me 'I don't want you to let me down again'. I'll try."

"Pfft, as if Shrub could fail us," Stan interjected. "He's got ten years in the ISA!" A beat, then Stan's head falls down. "...And I don't." The mood whiplash was enough to get a chuckle out of me, but Petrov? Nah.

As Stan sheepishly brushed over to my side, I glanced at the Desert Eagle in my hand and blew air on it.

Made me look like one of those movies Dad and I watched.

I'll try not to fail you, Dad.

---

Efreytor Anatoly Smirnov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Streets of Chernobog - Dated December, 1096

Traveling across the dead city of Chernobog felt cold and unwelcoming. The Paratroopers seemed to think so, and so did I. I was carrying around my rifle, the Knee Mortar strapped to my back. The asphalt of the dirt beneath me crunched with wetness as the rain seemed to pour down with the desire to flood the area around us. It was a comfort knowing that we couldn't get spotted.

The foggy, cold weather and rain made the perfect cover. Us Paratroopers were walking behind the four tanks, walking as if we were sheep being herded. The Agent and the Diplomat were way ahead of us, having learned the area. But the VDV? Well, we were just walking along. Radio chatter died as we kept moving, and nobody seemed interested in talking for now.

That is, until Dimitri turned to me.

"Hey, Tolya," Dimitri asked, carrying his machine gun. "Why the hell didn't we send a diplomat to Lungmen? I mean, Nod could have just as easily sent a diplomat as they did with the Black Hand."

"Ehhh, as far as I can tell? Probably took them less time," Kiril interjected, responding in my place. Remind me to thank for his knowledge later. "Like, it takes them less time to send a military special operations team than to negotiate a military access treaty. And Nod is about speed and time, after all."

"I dunno, couldn't they have sent Stan to speak with them? I mean, he works with Yugoslavia."

"Stan's a Serbo-Croat speaker," Kiril deadpanned. "No way that he'd be able to speak with Lungmen when all he can say is Yankee English and Yugoslav. Plus," Kiril raised his index finger. "He's only specialized and accustomed to dealing with Yugoslavia and its constituent republics, for examples given; The Macedonian Socialist Republic, the Serbian Socialist Republic, hell, even the Bosnian Socialist Republic."

"Oh. Why didn't they just send the PLA in then? Or hell, the NRA? They speak Chinese. They'd be able to negotiate something."

"Dimitri," Kiril noted. "You have a fair point there. But," He raised his second finger. "This is where I get to my second point; time."

"What do you mean by that?" Dimitri asked, glancing toward Kiril with confusion.

"What I mean is that for Nod, the cost of that action in a ratio against the reward probably isn't optimal for them. Or, in far simpler words, Nod took the faster road because if they delayed by sending diplomats to negotiate, they - in their eyes - risked letting Reunion slip without getting nipped in the bud."

"Why not send both at the same time? I mean, they could grab an officer from either the NRA or PLA and have him negotiate while the Black Hand enters and nip everyone in the bud?"

"And this is point three, relevancy," Kiril raised his middle finger. "Nod back home could raise hell and make a nation bow down to them because they had the assets, reputation, and power to pressure a nation into listening to them whether they like it or not. So if someone were to get a telegram from Nod, that'd be answered first because the power behind Nod's name can make or break a nation."

He took a deep breath, then sighed.

"Now, we're here. On... I forgot, Terra was it? Eh, whatever. In here, Nod can't simply barge in and request an audience with the guys running the catastrophe that was Lungmen, Hong Kong, yada-yada whatever-" He waved his hand rapidly. "-Because Nod doesn't have a name or reputation here. They don't have the assets to take over a nation's economy, army, or government! Plus," He turned around to face the road. "We're talking about a special economic zone here, which has way bigger people or organizations to deal with."

He stops to pat his squad automatic weapon, then continues. "If I had to deal with Apple-IBM* first or some dumbass group that wants to speak with us and send armed men in my city, I'd pick Apple-IBM for two reasons; One - I know them and they have the reputation to back up their importance. Two - business matters first, and armed spec ops is NOT good for business. And Three - Who in their right mind would give an audience to a VNSA unless it was like, Nod, or something?"

"Oh... I see, uh..."

"Yeah. There's a lot of stuff on our plate. I studied International Relations before I joined the RSDF. It's a very complicated mess that results in more deadlock than not. So, Nod made the right call. Just a lot of problems on their plate too that bogged down everything and turned into a clusterfuck."

"Well, why don't you replace Stan as the diplomat?"

"I got a healthy enough ego to say that Stan's doing a better job than I at diplomacy. After all, he was the Governor of Massachusets before '88, where he decided to work in diplomacy after his term," Kiril placed his weapon over his shoulder. "And I think that he'd make a better president. Though the problem is that, uh, I guess nobody here can speak Serbo-Croat. And we're not sure how many people speak English. We were just lucky to find one Yanese-descendant civilian who spoke English. Imagine the language barrier elsewhere."

"Well, too right. God be with us for making sure the entire contingent was stuffed with English-speaking soldiers. Even if I wonder where they got their education..."

"The perks of a global force, amirite?"

"Sure a-"

"Ahem, I hate to interrupt, but-" The voice of Major Petrov boomed over the radio, the tone being as relieving as it could. I wanted someone to reel the rest of the paratroopers in, even if for a little bit. "Could you keep it down? The Agent and Diplomat don't want your voices echoing throughout this necropolis."

"Well, whaddya know?" Ilyin commented. "This place really does look like a necropolis. Anyone got anything on their sights?"

"Nope." I replied, lugging the Knee Mortar on my left shoulder, and holding my AK on my free hand.

"Nyet. Nothing here," Kiril replied. "I got nothing."

"Dude," Oleg stated, mouth still full of gum as he talked. "This place is dead."

"Yeah, no shit."

"Wonder what the hell happened here?"

"Well, duh, Reunion," Dimitri commented. "Wonder if there's a Russia equivalent? I mean, hell, this place is called Chernobog after all."

"Oh, well, it's called Ursus." Kiril noted. Dimitri audibly reacted, a confused tone taking over his speech.

"Ursus? Like Ursine?"

"Yeah," Kiril snorted. "Like bears."

"You gotta be shitting me."

"Nope, Dima. I wish I was shitting, but info I snagged by trading my optics for a Black Hand officer said otherwise. He got the info from the single native refugee we got."

"Pffft. Goddamnit, Kiril."

"Quiet," Petrov said. "They'll hear you if you're too loud. So, please, gentlemen, try not to make a lot of noise. Okay?"

"Da, Major." Kiril replied, while Dimitri whistled onto the radio. I, for the most part, kept my hands to myself.

I checked the map distributed to us for the operation, and it seemed we were halfway through our objective. We just needed to head down south, and we were there at the internment camp.

A wet 'splat' as I continued walking and the feeling of something wet on my right leg sent a shiver up my spine, but I ignored it. It was just water, Tolya. Nothing more, nothing less. Yet, as I kept reminding myself that, I felt like it was... too cold to be regular water. Way too cold.

And that made my eyes zig and zag around the foggy necropolis, paranoid we were being watched. I could swear I even saw figures in the corners of my vision.

It's a dread that I've possessed since I was younger, and it's the dread of being right about being watched, endangering both you and your comrades.

I started to pray, hoping to God that I was able to make it without falling into my own inner suspicions.

"Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil; May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; And do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. Amen." I spoke into the radio, holding my breath in as the cold settled in. Immediately, I heard some chuckling from my squadmates, as they knew I was Catholic, and it showed.

But that wasn't why I started praying, it was because of my paranoia - that we'd be ambushed.

I just wish that that paranoia wouldn't be proven right.

---

Ringleader Mephisto [Reunion Movement - Ringleaders] - Vicinity of Peterheim School - Dated December, 1096

W was late. As always. It had been several days since she decided to go off on her own, apparently to 'tie up some loose ends', whatever that meant. Sadly, Talulah was out of reach for quite a while now, leaving Mephisto to deal with everything by himself.

And by Terra he loathed it.

She was supposed to back them up, but alas, not.

Faust looked at him, eyes of worry on the sniper. Mephisto tapped his foot repeatedly on the floor and pranced around, trying not to let his infuriated feelings leak out. Though that being said given his behavioral habits even before being stationed to guard Peterheim, it was very easy for Mephisto's internal feelings to leak out once in a while.

Those Ursus bastards better pay for what they've done to the people they neglected.

He clenched his fist. FrostNova was busy elsewhere in the area, and that left just him. At least it wasn't Patriot guarding these children.

Mephisto slammed his fist on the wall, startling Faust.

"What is it?" Mephisto asked, taking his hand off the wall to face Faust. In response, Faust merely shook his head. "No, nothing, Mephisto." He muttered, glancing outside of the window. The building had once belonged to a prominent Ursus noble, but during the rioting, he abandoned the area. He made it out. His staff, though, were unlucky. They didn't get the same preferential treatment.

And people like Mephisto - filled with rage and the desire to fulfill 'justice' - had their way with them. Usually ending in bloodshed alone at best. It's best to leave behind the knowledge of what some did to their prisoners.

Mephisto turned around, staring at the school that contained the children of the bastards putting the infected through misery. Their parents were either unfortunately lucky enough to die first unceremoniously or had simply... left in the intensity of the rioting. And with nobody else to persecute, they just left their children. The sins of the fathers had been passed down to these children.

Faust bit his lower lip. Mephisto's intention of justice was nothing but an excuse to murder as many people as he wanted.

And he couldn't put a stop to it, no matter how much he wished to.

"The sins of the fathers damn the son," Mephisto stated, having quoted a once-prominent Ursus philosopher. "And the son suffers for the works of people he never knew."

"Mephisto, are you sure this is what we're supposed to be doing?" Faust asked. "We're not painting the best image of our justice to the outside..."

"Faust, Faust," Mephisto turned to face him again, smiling. Faust swore he would have responded with disgust if he could. "If we didn't use terror tactics, how else could we paint our cause to the oppressors? If you punish the ten percent, as an example, then the remaining ninety percent fall in line. This is the most exciting - and efficient - way of saving lives!"

Faust didn't comment, instead pushing his head down, as if to look at his legs rather than Mephisto's argument. In fact, he shivered. Mephisto had really lost it, didn't he?

And it was because he wasn't there to speak up.

"Now, the people here? They can be taught that lesson as efficiently as possible. After all, the children are the easiest to go after first. If you punish and make an example in front of them, then they fall in line, containing themselves. It's as simple as that!"

"I..."

"Now, Faust. Just remember. The sins of the Father are passed down. It's merely the consequences of their parent's actions." He noted, grinning wildly. If there was a time Faust wished he was deaf, this was one of the times. To hear Mephisto's psychosis take hold of him was unsettling at first. But now? It's only grown worse with each passing day under Reunion.

Oh, how he wished he was there to guide him out of the wrong path.

Talulah...

"And if they refuse to see the merits of our justice," Mephisto clenched his fist. "We will see to it they are re-educated."

A knock on the door had broken up the awkward air between the two ringleaders. Faust stood up and went towards the door, turning the deadbolt and unlocking it. As soon as the door opened, a Reunion scout rushed in, panting heavily.

"Mephisto, Faust! Urgent news!"

Mephisto raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Urgent news, you say?" He tapped his foot. "Well, spill it. I do not have all the time on Terra to be delayed. you know?"

"Unknown armed men have been sighted in the streets, escorted by four armored vehicles. They were seen making their way west of the Union District, heading unknown. This was reported by our scouts in the Red District, who reported noises in the fog and sent me to check them."

"Did they spot you? Did you see any reinforcements? How open are they? And what are they armed with?" He asked, moving one arm into a thinking position. It seemed that Mephisto had taken an interest.

Faust's eyes widened as he flashed back to the Lungmen case and the first Chernobog case, both of which involved armed military men with access to a nigh-unlimited supply of ammunition teaching Reunion a lesson.

He feared that it may be a repeat of these cases.

The scout took a moment to breathe and responded. "They weren't able to spot me, but one of them began looking everywhere. There appeared to be no reinforcements around as if they were just a small force sent to probe the city. They were walking pretty openly, with them using the roads to travel, apparently relying on the fog and rain to conceal themselves. And..." He stops, looks at himself for a brief moment, then continues. "They were armed with firearms. Lots of firearms."

"Like the first Chernobog case..." Mephisto muttered. Faust felt a shiver trickle up his spine. This couldn't be good. "I'll teach those oppressors what happens when you put down the infected for your own gratification..."

Mephisto looked up to the scout. "Tell the men to set up mortars, and ready the men. I want them dead." In response, the scout nodded.

"Yes, sir." He quickly dashed outside.

Faust could only let out a 'tsk' and shake his head. Not visible to Mephisto while doing so, but it was the best he could do.

But if Mephisto wanted to exact revenge on the people who made his life hell during the first Chernobog case, then Faust couldn't exactly stop him.

After all, he had a point. Even if it was rendered moot by his desire for revenge.

---

International Security Agent 'Shrub' [Organization of American States - ISA America Divsion] - Slums of Chernobog - Dated December, 1096

"Come on, get up." I commented, dragging Stan to his feet when we decided to jump up to a building's rooftop. Stan wasn't exactly a heavy man by any means, compared to me. Yet, it took a considerable amount of effort to bring him up without immediately tossing him onto the floor. When I finally pulled him up from the balcony, he almost crumpled on the floor and took a moment to recuperate.

It had been only twenty minutes since we volunteered to scout ahead, and reported back nothing for most of it. But then again, we didn't scout the rooftops.

Hence why we were here.

"That was..." He wheezed, before looking at me. "A pain in my ass."

"You don't have to tell me that twice." I muttered, pulling the Desert Eagle out of my pocket.

I walked across the building's rooftops. The rain and wind made my hair flutter around. It felt... agonizingly cold. Not that I wasn't used to that, see what it was like to work in Argentina. No, rather, it was too cold for a normal storm.

In fact, my eyes widened as I saw some ice crystals form before being annihilated by the raindrops.

"Hey, uh, Shrub," Stan asked, just before lightning struck in the background. I turned around to glance at it, but then back to Stan. "Is it supposed to be this cold?"

"No, Stanley." I walked across the rooftop, pistol in hand.

"Then why the hell is it so cold?"

"Bad weather, I presume..." I found a plank bridge that connected this building to another one. I squinted in response, tapping my foot on the bridge. It didn't seem to fall apart, but I stepped back just in case. "Or Arts. One of the two options."

"Jesus. You'd think that with their functional magic, they'd find other use for this, uh, 'Arts' thing."

"Hah. No." I stepped on the plank bridge, walking agonizingly slow as I tried to balance myself with the pistol. Stan followed suit, barely tipping his toes to ensure his balance. He let out a lot of sheepish yelps as he nearly came close to falling. But I? Well, my mouth was shut, so there was that. I probably looked stoic and not scared.

When I made it across to the other building, I immediately crouched down near a chimney on the roof.

"Ag- Sh-" the radio spoke up, static filtering out most of it. I could barely tell it was the voice of Dimitri. Took me a few minutes before I got a clear radio signal out of it. "Agent Shrub. Do you read?" The radio asked.

"Uh, roger. What's up?"

"Tolya just reported a disturbance on the rooftops just ahead of us. Said he saw something moving, like, uh, shadows or something. Mind if you pull up your binocs to see if anything's fishy? Would be a great help to us, over."

"Uh, copy," I answered, using my free hand to pull the binoculars up from my neck sling. "I'll see what's behind the fog, over. Wait one, over."

"Copy that, Shrub. Report back when you find something, over."

When I pulled up the binoculars, I was surprised to see nothing on the thermal imaging mode. I turned it on and off again just to be sure. Nothing yet again. Must be some sorta thermal-proof smoke.

I squinted my eyes and was surprised when I vaguely saw movement on the other side. In response, I turned off thermal imaging and looked through the binoculars again.

I was alarmed to see silhouettes and shadows moving in the fog.

"Hey, Shrub? Whaddya see?" Stan asked. I turned around and shushed him.

"Not now!" I spoke. I immediately turned on my earpiece and shouted.

"Break Break! Everyone! Get to cover! NOW!"

"Huh?! Why?"

"I think I see Reunion! Just ahead of you! They're setting up... something! I don't know what, but just... get into cover! It might be an ambush!" I shouted. Immediately, I put the binoculars back on just to see what exactly they were setting up.

I stared in horror as rather than seeing a mere ambush maneuver, I heard a 'thump' from the fog just in front of me... and several more.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

I had expected them to simply position in a line of fire and fire at them, which'd give me the perfect opportunity to pick off them, Alvin York style.

But no.

It was artillery.

Mortars.

I panicked and pressed the earpiece button to get their attention to the best of my ability. They were going to die without this information. "INCOMING ARTILLERY FIRE! GET TO COVER!" I screamed, first receiving a bemused response, but then that changed when I heard explosions just not too distant from me. I slowly dropped my hand off the earpiece, dumbfounded.

The panicked Paratroopers I heard on the radio told me everything I needed to know.

I looked at the pistol in my hand and frowned. Transitioning from dumbfoundedness, I soon found myself getting a headache from the red-blood rage I was feeling. And it wasn't going to be satiated by watching them.

I pat Stan's shoulder with my free hand. "Stan. We better move." I spoke, pulling out the magazine I had to check how many bullets were loaded on the Desert Eagle.

I had eight bullets and ten extra magazines on backup. Adequate.

I put the magazine back on the pistol and flicked off the safety. At that moment, I resisted the urge to pull the slide on my pistol then and there. For one, that would be wasting a round considering I loaded one earlier, and two - it wastes precious split-seconds.

Though that would have made for a great scene if I was in a movie.

Hell, Dad'd be proud.

"What're you doing, Shrub?" Stan asked nervously, leaning over my shoulder.

"We're going to deal with Reunion." I put my free hand on the pistol grip, and closed one of my eyes, squeezing the trigger.

"Personally."

---

Efreytor Anatoly Smirnov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Streets of Chernobog - Dated December, 1096

As soon as I heard Special Agent Shrub scream at us to get to cover, I instinctively dove behind a car wreck and cradled my helmet to prevent shrapnel from getting into it. The weight of diving down slammed the Mortar into my back, giving me a sharp pain in the back. I resisted the urge to scream, only biting my lips as high-explosive detonated.

No shrapnel hit me, lucky. Not so sure about the others.

"What the hell happened?!" Agat-11 shouted. "Engine's damaged, Co-ax is damaged... And one of the tracks is cut! Damnit!" He coughed in, the damage alarm of the Sprut-SD echoing in the background. "Agat-03 is reporting light damage, Agat-06 is reporting no problems, and Agats 09 and 10 are in cover! What the hell just hit us?!"

"MORTARS!" Dimitri yelled, getting up immediately and positioning the machine gun and bipod, practically bolting it to the wreck. I got up and put down the Knee Mortar. Glancing at the other soldiers, I saw Ilyin position his rifle behind some crates marked 'URSUS IMPERIAL CONSTABULARY', while Kiril hurriedly pulled the charging handle on his weapon to check if it was loaded.

Every other Paratrooper in the squad was either behind something or rushing to cover. It was a wonder that none of us were killed by in the high-explosive bombardment.

I positioned the mortar and loaded a camera round. Connected to Confederation Mortarmen helmets via an eyepiece and a wireless connection. Lasted only ten minutes though, better make it count.

"Cam round is up!" I shouted, flipping my right eyepiece over so I could see what was in the fog.

"Agat-11! Have the other Agats reported anything?!" Petrov shouted.

"No! Just me, Aurora-11! We can deal with a damaged engine and co-ax, but our track's fucked! You got a repair drone?!"

"Yes! Sit tight, Agat-11! Repair Drone, incoming!" Petrov shouted, tossing it into the air. "It's up!"

"Thank you!"

The streets then calmed for a brief second, leading me to peek my head out of the car frame. The eyepiece reported nothing via the camera, which was puzzling.

Was there truly nothing out there? Well then why were we-

"AMBUSH!" Dimitri shouted.

I saw through the eyepiece an entire wall of snipers on the rooftops firing at our cover, a rain of arrows being hurled at us. I went prone and hugged the frame of the car, watching with widened eyes as several arrows barely missed the gap and hit the floor instead. However, I move my eyes and see a Russian Paratrooper getting hit in the face with an arrow.

He stumbled back, just barely avoiding several more arrows. Then he ripped off the arrow lodged in his face, tossing it aside before diving for cover again.

I got back up and repositioned the Knee Mortar, aiming it at just the right spot to hit the sniper wall. Their tactics were to pin us down, and presumably, they had units to flank us.

I had to eliminate the fire support before we could engage in rifle fighting.

"MORTAR STRIKE!" I shouted, grabbing the Mortar by its launching handle and pushing it down. The Mortar let out a 'thump' as it launched a shot, the recoil negated by pads that protected my knees. I quickly loaded it with another shot and pushed the launching handle down again. Another shot rang out, and quickly I loaded yet another one. Mortar shells were being rapidly let out, shot after shot.

Through the camera, I saw the bombardment of the sniper line. Just as arrows were fired, the mortars impacted their area, eliminating a good number of them.

The rest of them scattered, only letting off one or two arrows before being forced to scatter.

"Fuck! They're scattering!" Dimitri shouted. "Shoot at them! Let not one step back!" He shouted, before firing his machine gun rapidly at the enemy forces. The other Russian Paratroopers also started firing at the retreating snipers. One even fired a grenade launcher. The cacophony and staccato of rifle and machine gun fire drowned out any other shouting or battle cries, but I could barely make out some.

"Get some! Come get some! Assholes! Fucking die! DIE!"

"Go on, run! Run you cowards!"

"They are retreating! Field Promotion, here I come!"

"I just wanted a paycheck, you assholes! Not an arrow in my face! Eat shit!'

"Agat-11 reporting! The track's fixed!" The Sprut-SD that was Agat-11 turned its turret to the building where the snipers once were, and fired off a shot.

"Agat Platoon, engage, engage!" Agat-11 ordered as the other Sprut and the two BMDs turned their turret to start opening fire on the position they were retreating. Basically, the other Agat tanks joined on the suppression too, before they disappeared, and the firing stopped - from both tank and man alike.

Silence reigned once again as they were fully driven off, and I took a moment to breathe. The eyepiece cam showed them disappearing into the fog, retreating.

I turned on Thermal Imaging for the camera, but nothing.

Guess it was Arts-induced Fog. Magic.

Satan had his work done for cheap, given that our enemies used tricks to attempt to destroy us. It was only through Saint Michael the Archangel that we made it out.

Praise be to God.

"Fuck," Dimitri mumbled, getting up. "Everyone okay?!"

"Yes!"

"This-" The radio spoke out, the voice of Agent Shrub coming in. It was static for a few seconds, with Shrub struggling to get his radio communications out. However, we could make out what were Desert Eagle shots on the radio. Very static-ified, but still shots. Rapid ones, with a very short interim between each shot.

Later, they stopped.

I anxiously waited a few minutes, glancing at the other paratroopers.

Saint Michael had granted us protection against these sinners and evil spirits. Could he do the same to Agent Shrub, a devout man himself? I would pray, just to hope he would.

I performed the sign of the cross, first touching my helmet, then my lower vest, and ending at both of my shoulder pads. "Dear God, please, call upon Saint Michael... protect Agent Shrub from all evils, and smite those who dare attack a devout spirit and worker of God... Thrust into hell the Evil Spirits who dare endanger allies of God's children... Amen." I prayed into the radio, with people following me along as they prayed Shrub could get out.

The silence didn't make it any better.

Eventually, a few minutes passed, with no resolution. I tightened the grip on my assault rifle, silently praying to God that Agent Shrub might make it out.

Another minute later, I hear more Desert Eagle shots. Things look up. I broke out in a smile, happy that God had heard my prayers for a fellow devout man. The rest of the Paratroopers chuckled.

"That Yankee can slip out of anything!" Dimitri commented, raising his machine gun in victory. "Glory to the ones who face forward and never turn back!"

"And here I was expecting he gave his life for us. Deserves to be called Agent Snake rather than Shrub." Kiril commented, a smile hidden by his balaclava.

"Why'd he not become a GDI Tan Beret again?" Ilyin asked, voice in awe of the agent. "I mean, come on! He can kick ass and still make it out! Why the hell hasn't he gotten transferred to the Tan Berets unit?"

"Suppose he really likes working for the ISA," A Paratrooper commented, short on his breath. "Hey, wait - isn't his dad part of the International Security Agency?" He added, turning to face Kiril, who nodded. Looks like he was a nepotism hire.

"Nepotism? Oh definitely," Ilyin snickered. "Competent and badass? Also definitely. I'd bite the bullet and tolerate nepotism if people like him were the nepotism hires around the world, rather than... well, you all know already."

"Competent and actually devoted to the job instead of sucking up money?" Vladimir interjected. "Because, then, I'd agree. Even if it limits job opportunities for the fairly hired."

"Amen."

I had to admit, I almost frowned when I heard that his father was part of the ISA. But if he was a devout man and was capable of surviving on his own? Then it seemed that he was one to put work into his faith.

As expected, the radio came on, and on the other side... was Shrub. Agent Shrub.

That man could survive anything.

"This is Agent Shrub!" He spoke, as gunshots rang out in his background. "I've got 'em all!" He panted, as a final shot echoed in the background. "There's supposed... to... Heh, be more..." He wheezed out of the radio. "Keep moving to the objective, before any more come," He ordered. "We can still get to the camp."

"That's good to hear, Shrub," Vladimir commented, before getting up and waving, trying to rally the paratroopers around. "Aurora unit, keep moving! Advance to the objective! Ura!" He shouted, getting up and advancing backward.

"Agat-11!" Petrov shouted. "Keep advancing to the objective, we might be able to evade further Reunion assault for a limited time. How copy, over?"

"Copy that, Aurora! Agat follows, out." Agat-11 replied, the tank moving to move south, continuing to the school-now-turned-internment camp.

"Roger that, Agat. Aurora out." Petrov replied, getting up from the cover that was the car frame.

When the tanks of Agat turned south, turrets facing north, the paratroopers followed suit. One by one, the men of Aurora unit got up, guns turned north and walked backward south. I pressed the self-destruct button on the camera round, detonating it mid-air. Folding my eyepiece in and slinging the knee mortar to my back, I immediately ran south when I could.

Soon, nobody was left in the street where we got pinned down.

We soon re-entered into foggy weather, with the tank and squad disappearing into the mist. I wanted to stop and take a deep breath, but that would leave my guard down to another ambush, so I opted to continue advancing with the rest of the unit.

Soon, we passed by a ruined office building, a ruined store, and a destroyed zoo. Several paratroopers remarked that it reminded them of post-nuclear Moscow, which had only just opened up in the New Year of 1995. Efforts were still undergoing to restore Moscow after it was nuked by the remnants of Allied Overcommand before the Fall of Britain.

Chernobog just reminded me of Moscow. I didn't like it. Not one bit.

I glanced in the corner of my right eye, and I swore I saw a dog running in the corner. I turned right, gun raised at where I supposedly saw it.

There was nothing at the ruined apartment block I was aiming at.

I turned back around and continued marching in the fog.

As we walked, I couldn't help but feel a shiver in my spine again. My paranoid senses were tingling, and they were tingling hard. I swore I saw a dog in the corner, and now I swore I heard buzzing. Like a fly.

Couldn't help but look up at the sky, only to see thick fog blocking us. I didn't have thermal imaging on my eyepiece, so I couldn't just whip it out to take a look. It was suffering.

We then ground to a halt as the tanks stopped moving, and soon Petrov gestured to halt, raising his left hand, the rear of it facing us. Everyone stopped. Then, Petrov motioned for them to move forward, albeit slowly. I took the lead, squeezing between my squadmates to see what was going on, rifle in hand. I heard everyone else following me.

A Barricade of broken cars, haphazardly-strewn wood pallets, barrels, and other assorted things greeted us. To the left was an alleyway, and to the right was an intersection. Bodies were strewn along the barricades, civilian and police alike. Many died gruesomely. Some were impaled, some disemboweled, and some just... decapitated.

But the bodies that were mangled the most were the ones that looked police-like.

I crouched down and walked over, just to take a closer look at one of the police bodies nearby, having died sideways. When I turned them over to face the sky, I widened my eyes in a slight shock after reading URSUS IMPERIAL CONSTABULARY on the vest.

But they were disemboweled, had their hands and knees tied... and it looks like one of their eyes was gouged. The most alarming feature to me was the animal parts. I heard of the inhabitants of Terra having these parts, but I didn't get to see them with my own two eyes.

The brutality of it all...

I felt sick to my stomach, the brutality of it all making me feel like I just entered hell.

Yet, a part of me found out... why they died like this.

This version of Russia was still under the Tsar. And if anything told me, the Tsars ruled like autocrats, putting their people down below them. If they had magic and were merely ostracised due to a crystallization infection... I understood, even if it was just a shallow conclusion.

It made me want to spit in pure disgust. Whether it be under Nicholas II or Iosif Jugashvilli, nothing changed. Russia was still under a Tsar nonetheless.

But the more practical problem... was the barricade at hand. I stepped back, standing up. And as I did so, Agat-11 popped his hatch and looked at the barricade. Shaking his head, he grabbed the radio.

"Agat-11 here, there's a barricade in front of us. We can't advance," Agat-11 reported. "You'll have to go on without us. I repeat, you'll have to go on without us."

"This is Agat-10," One of the BMDs commented. "We'll scout ahead for a path for the other Agat units. In the meantime, Aurora, you'll have to keep moving without us. How copy? Over."

"Copy that, Agat," Petrov responded. "Stay safe out there, and good luck. Out."

"Wilco, Aurora. Agat out." Agat-11 finished, their tank and the rest of Agat unit's tanks moved out. They turned right, heading for the intersection. Meanwhile, Petrov and Vladimir sped-walked to the alleyway, hugging the alley entrance walls as they did so. The both of them then entered the alleyway.

"Aurora, alleyway's clear. Get over here."

I nodded and jogged forwards, the squad following me. The alleyway colors clashed with ours, even if so slightly. The wall we hugged? Grey. The camouflage we were wearing? Dark green digital camo. Made us look visible. Hell, our only hope was the fog, as it concealed our movements.

As I hugged the wall, I noticed a slight buzzing in the air. Just faintly, and I hoped to shut it to the back corners of my mind and forget about it. Still, the buzz continued.

I was alarmed when it seemed to grow louder in intensity and seemed... numerous. As if there were multiple sources of the buzzing.

"Tolya here. You guys hear that?" I asked on the radio. Immediately, the paratroopers raised their guns and started sweeping the air.

"I heard it too Tolya," Dimitri noted. "Sounds like... flies."

"No, too... mechanical," Ilyin interjected, pressing his rifle against his shoulders and aiming at the sky. "Sounds like... something else. Perhaps a recon drone?"

"Shit. Does anyone have their Prism Cannon?" Kiril asked.

"I do," Oleg replied. "Haven't fired it yet. Still have several more microfusion cells in the pack."

"As do I," Ilyin replied, shouldering his rifle to use the Prism Cannon instead. "Can target aircraft too."

"Excellent. In case the drone spots us, fire. Got it?" Dimitri asked.

"Wilco." Oleg nodded.

"Roger." Ilyin replied.

When we reached the end of the alleyway, I peeked my head around the wall, aiming my rifle while leaning. My sights didn't catch any movement, and neither did the corners of my eye. Yet, the buzzing... only seemed to grow louder, and more incessant.

The street looked safe... Yet I just couldn't shake off the feeling that something wasn't right.

The buzzing was what alarmed me, and gave me the sense that the street we were about to cross wasn't safe at all. It felt as if I would be gunned down the moment I tried to step out of the alleyway. I sincerely hoped that it wasn't true.

To test this out, I stepped to the left, and stepped forwa-

Several gunshots rang out of the fog, prompting me to reel back to hugging the wall, almost dropping my rifle. I wheezed heavily, watching the shots impact the ground.

"It's a drone ambush!" Dimitri shouted, turning left to check on the entrance we came from. "OH SHIT! THEY'RE INCOMING FROM THE LEFT!" I heard him scream, his voice afflicted with terror. He wildly fired his machine gun in the process, but alas hit none of the drones. I tried to help, firing at them. None of the bullets hit.

"AMBUSH!" Oleg shouted, running to cling to the left wall as the buzzing grew much louder, revealing itself to be a bunch of drones. Attack drones. And they had entered through

I was about to turn and run out of the alleyway into cover but tripped as I felt several stings across my legs and my back, and tripped. I dropped my rifle in the process but regained focus and crawled forward, pulling myself to the road. Footsteps of the squad followed me, as they ran out of the alleyway and into the open streets, just to get into another alleyway.

I reached forward and grabbed my rifle-

My shoulder was violently yanked forward just immediately after I grabbed the grip. I looked up and saw Oleg dragging me by the left hand, his rifle pointed towards the alleyway we retreated from, firing at the drones to no avail. As he was just a Minigunner rather than a Prism Cannoneer, he couldn't shoot at them even if he tried.

In turn, the drones responded by shooting back.

Rat-at-at-at, rat-at-at, rat-at-at. Repeat that ad nauseam, and you had this ambush.

The gunshots were all around the street, and it made Oleg's 'dragging me back to safety' plan extremely dangerous.

"I've got Tolya! Dimitri! Cover me!" Oleg shouted, both next to me and over the radio.

"Ura!" Dimitri shouted over the radio, letting the machine gun in his hands loose. "You are all like little babies! You drones think you can just harm the Russian VDV, huh?!" He shouted, reloading all the while. "Well guess what - Nobody, but us! Eat lead!" He finished, and pressed the trigger, sweeping the ground.

The machine gun fire seemed to scatter the drones away.

I raised my rifle with my free hand and tried to fire at the drones. But the recoil kicked like a mule, making me nearly drop it a second time. I had always known that firing the AK-64M one-handed was dangerous, but I had no idea it was like that.

Eventually, the drones swerved and scattered, lifting up into the air as we made it to another alleyway. When they scattered, Oleg yanked me harder, and eventually left me near a wall.

"Is he alright?" Dimitri asked, crouching down to look at me. He lightly smacked my face, and looked back at Oleg.

"He'll make it. Gunshots weren't lethal enough to put him at half-condition." Oleg replied. Dimitri nodded and held his machine gun by the bipod. "Get him with the rest of the squad. I'll cover the rear entrance."

"Roger that." Oleg replied, lifting me by the shoulders and grabbing my rifle.

Further into the alleyway - supposedly by the middle - he dropped me and my rifle slowly. First, he put my rifle against the wall. Then, Oleg put me down, having positioned me against the wall, and pat my vest.

"You're gonna be alright, Tolya. You're gonna be alright..." He assured me, loading his rifle.

A second later, I heard gunshots and explosions further in the alleyway, where the rest of the squad bar Oleg and Dimitri retreated to.

"INCOMING REUNION! THEY'VE FOUND US!"

---

Ringleader Mephisto [Reunion Movement - Ringleaders] - Vicinity of Peterheim School - Dated December, 1096

"Go! Destroy the oppressors who dare defile the reign of terror I so carefully set up!" Mephisto shouted as he pointed at the armed soldiers firing at them with automatic weapons. "They shall pay for obstructing justice, for their cheap tricks will no longer save them!"

The cacophony of rifle fire originating from overturned dumpsters and barrel areas had been quite a sight for Mephisto, but that did not matter to him. After all, they were soldiers, with limited ammunition. And once that ammunition is exhausted, they are left at their most vulnerable. The men he sends after them? Worthy sacrifices in the name of justice.

After all, when one of the revolutionaries dies - four more spring up to take his place!

"They've still got enough ammo! We'll never make it!" A Reunion soldier shouted on the battlefield, only to poke his head out and have his face smashed in by a direct impact from a grenade launcher, instantly killing him. Another one took his spot as he fell, and vainly tried to light his Molotov firebomb. He barely got the lighter out before another grenade was fired, impacting near him and killing him via shrapnel wound to the head.

Meanwhile, a Reunion drone tried to get as close as possible to shoot at them, only to meet a beam of light as it attempted to fly close to them. When it was followed by a pack of dogs commanded to attack by Mephisto himself, he watched as they were gunned down without a second thought by the soldiers. Upon closer listening - it seemed like they were Ursine.

"Дмитрий! Подними этот ПК!" [1]

"Влад! Гранату за мусорку! Живо!" [2]

"Огонь, огонь!" [3]

"Я хочу, чтобы все до единого из этих беломасочных ублюдков сдохли, все до единого! Понятно?!" [4]

"Автомат заклинило! Прикройте меня!" [5]

The dumpster wall hastily set up by these troops was enough to cover their bodies from shots, but their voices reverbed throughout the alleyway.

The recognizable shouts of Ursine made Mephisto scowl. Not only were they very much like the mercenaries that fought alongside Rhodes Island in the Chernobog riot, but they were Ursine too! There was no other conclusion that he could come to, other than that they were mercenaries fighting on behalf of the wealthy nobility and imperial despotism that sought to subjugate the infected!

"Destroy the Imperial oppressors!" Mephisto shouted, pointing at them. "The Empire must learn that we've had enough! Kill them all! Maim, slaughter, eviscerate!"

"DIE, YOU IMPERIALS!" A Rioter shouted, tossing a Molotov over the dumpster wall they set up. "Let the hounds loose!" He continued, raising his fist in defiance. "These slaves to the crown shall feel our wrath!"

At that moment, as he said that, sixteen dogs rushed over from the chokepoint that Reunion ground troops were trapped in, weaving and zig-zagging through the gunfire and tracers that lit up the foggy alleyway. The Imperial forces didn't see it until it was too late, and several leaped over the dumpster wall to attack them. To Mephisto's and Faust's shock, rather than slaughtering the troops, the dogs simply died. Those dogs who were close to the mercenaries were shot immediately, hell - some of the mercenaries grabbed the dogs and bashed them against the wall hard, painting the dying gray with fresh red.

Those who were far enough were destroyed by a grenade launcher, wiping out the would-be dog assault. They went back to firing at the alleyway chokepoint not too long after. It made Mephisto mad, as those hounds should have been what broke the assault! Yet, the soldiers continued on, firing into the alley.

"Damn them! How the hell did they wipe out our Hounds?!" A Reunion sniper languished, putting his crossbow down. "Those were the goddamn finest dogs in Ursus! How'd they fall so easily?!"

"Massed firepower." Faust commented bitterly. He bit his thumbnail, anxiously waiting for Mephisto's next move. Mephisto took a minute to think about it, even putting himself in the thinking pose.

Later, he raised his head and smirked, maliciously rubbing his chin. Faust let go of his thumbnail and sighed. Mephisto was at it again, much to Faust's dismay. He turned to a Reunion Rioter. "Order the Rioters and Swordsmen to fall back. The oppressors are not budging." He noted. The Rioter nodded and saluted.

"Da, Mephisto!"

"And do it quick," Mephisto dismissed him with a hand gesture. "I can't bear dealing with these monkeys." He added, turning to Faust as the Rioter ran down to inform them of the tactical retreat.

"Faust, gather your crossbowmen." Mephisto added, glancing back to the fading gunfire down on the alleyway below the rooftop he stood on. Unnoticed due to the fog.

"Will do, Mephisto," He replied, turning around. But... Faust still had something to ask Mephisto, specifically, why he needed his crossbow troops. His head turned, and he stopped for a moment. "By the way, Mephisto," He shouldered his crossbow on his back. "Why do you need them? What's the strategy?"

"We pin them down and swarm them while they're distracted," Mephisto added, smiling. "With my mortars and your snipers, we can pin them down and give our brothers and sisters an opening to take down the oppressors."

Faust nodded. If only just so he could ensure that Mephisto didn't lash out in the battle. He didn't trust that Mephisto's little plan would work.

The scars left by the first gunman back when they pursued the Doctor gave him doubts that Mephisto would be able to break them fully.

---

Sniper Faust [Reunion Movement - Phantom Crossbowmen] - Ursus Rooftops - Dated December, 1096

Mephisto sighed as his crossbowmen lined up with him, the fog coating them just enough to obscure them. When the crossbows were fired, Casters would cast a smokescreen and the Mortarmen would follow, flushing out the mercenaries, then leave them open to the Soldiers, Rioters, and Dogs. Mephisto had gained experience in combined role support.

But Faust would have to see if the tactics that destroyed the Imperial Police would work on these mercenaries who bested them before.

When the last crossbowman crouched down in the formation line, Faust raised his crossbow and peeked through the scope. Arts had given people like him the ability to see through the fog, if only for a little bit. As Faust raised his crossbow, the Phantom Crossbowmen followed suit.

"Faust," A Crossbowman interjected, taking Faust away from squeezing the trigger. "Are you sure Mephisto's plan will work?" He hesitantly added, a pause occurring for two seconds, then broken. "The last time we fought people like this... they brought their wrath upon us from the sky..." He lowered his crossbow for a moment. "Faust... I don't want to end up like the last squad... Just wiped off the face with Terra without a second thought."

"I promise," Faust commented, finger beginning to squeeze on the trigger. "We will make it out."

The Crossbowman nodded and raised his crossbow again.

"Fire when the Mortars fire," Faust commanded, holding his breath as he stared at the Ursine mercenary with the machine gun, hoping to take him out with a headshot. Yet, rumors abound that these monsters disguised as men could survive even hits to the head. Whether it was an illusion or Arts trickery, it still gave him a sense of unease.

After all, why fight an enemy that gets back up even after the most lethal injuries?

He centered the reticle around the head of the machine gunner mercenary, C-Clamp tightening

"On my mark..."

He breathed in, and time seemed to slow down around him. It was barely a second after the mortars started firing, giving Faust the perfect opportunity to take the shot.

"Fire!" Faust commanded, squeezing the trigger.

At that moment, a hail of arrows were let loose from the crossbows, all steering toward the mercenaries. Through the scope, Faust could see them panicking, scattering at the explosions from the mortars.

And yet, to follow them were arrows.

To Faust's horror, however, the machine gunner - the man he targeted to terminate the fire support - was unaffected, even as the arrow penetrated his helmet, clearly hitting the brain. But, rather than falling and dying, the man let go of his machine gun, yanked the arrow away, and tossed it on the ground, picking his machine gun back up and shooting at them.

And rather than scattering into an easy kill zone, the infantry merely ducked and dove to avoid the mortars... and avoided most of them! They simply put themselves back up and set their rifles up on the dumpster wall, shooting at the alleyway.

Faust moved his scope to the right, to observe the assault troops. To his shock, rather than making it past the thin alley walls and closing the gap between firearm and melee, the assault trips were merely gunned down the moment they made it out of the alley, creating a pile of corpses that was toppled due to continued rushing, only to rebuild itself off fresh corpses.

It was a sadistic loop of construction, the wall of corpses being torn down only to be reestablished by sheer firepower.

Faust put his crossbow down and pulled another arrow out of his quiver, jamming it into the barrel. While pulling the string back, he felt his eyes widen and heart skip a beat as he heard a dreadful 'Thump' from the Killzone the mercenaries had set up.

"They've got a Mortarman!" A Crossbowman shouted, alerting Faust to the presence of mercenary mortars. He tried to pull the string as fast as he could, to prevent a second strike.

Yet, an explosion sounded in the alleyway, and Faust quickly whipped his head to the right, only to be greeted with the sight of Reunion assault troops being obliterated by a mortar, sending a cruel shower of gore and blood everywhere, painting the dying gray of Chernobog with a fresh red.

Hurriedly, he raised his crossbow, and took aim at the mortar mercenary, holding his breath as he aimed for the mortarman's head.

As he squeezed the trigger, he felt an alarming sense of dread, and that wasn't from the mercenaries in the kill zone.

He turned around, only to recoil in shock as seven gunshots rang out behind him.

And in a flash, the crossbowmen who lined up with him to take potshots at the mercenaries fell to the ground, with gore showering his face as their heads exploded.

From the fog approached two figures, both of whom he thought responsible for shooting at his crossbowmen. Quickly, he raised his crossbow.

But a gunshot rang out, and in barely a second, his prized crossbow had been destroyed in his hands, the fragments of it falling apart. He quickly dropped the fragments and attempted to call upon his Arts, hoping to stall this assassin.

A second gunshot put an end to that, however, and Faust felt his left arm explode internally, glancing and watching a massive hole in his left shoulder, having torn through every layer of flesh on his shoulder.

Staggering, he attempted to get up and stared down at the man, who was now visible after stepping out of the fog. The man who faced him down was a middle-aged man, with a black two-piece suit and a red tie that seemed to be fluttering at the wind. In his hands was the pistol that had decimated his fellow crossbowmen, a large pistol that seemed befitting of someone like a Sankta assassin.

The lack of halo and 'wings' disproved that theory though, and the cold brown eyes of the assassin in the suit stared into his soul. Piercing, like an Originium-tipped arrow.

"What... do you want?" Mephisto grunted out in Victorian, trying his best to dull the bleeding. He couldn't concentrate on his Arts to escape, even if he wanted to. Arms in pain, all he could do was stare down.

The man surprisingly answered, with a Columbian accent speaking... Old Victorian?

"A bunch of faceless cowards attacking freedom, the lot of you are," He replied, raising his pistol with one hand. "And it seems that, yet again, freedom has defended itself from thugs that dare attack it."

"Freedom? Is this what you call freedom?" Faust retorted quietly, tightening the grip on his left shoulder. "It's nothing but oppression. The Infected, put down and treated like... monsters. Savages. Extinction events. And yet... And yet you have the gall to call this freedom?" He stops, the pain of the hole in his shoulders catching up to him. "What... what sick Columbians call this death and destruction freedom?"

"No, I don't fight for whatever government you oppose, nor do I appreciate this death and destruction," The man replied, frowning as he pulled the slide on his pistol, aiming up at the sky. "I fight for freedom. Whatever you promise to the people of..." He pauses, glancing behind his shoulder, before responding. "...Terra," He replies, raising his pistol to the sky. "I fight for the rights of people, the right to freedom of assembly, the right to petition, and the right to speak freely," He puts his gun down, still frowning. "That is what I fight for."

"Then why fight for the Imperial government?" Faust retorted, letting go of his left shoulder. "Why fight for them? Are you even aware of... just... how many people died under its watch, merely for being infected? Because of a nobleman's order? How many people have died in front of you, just so you could fight for the government and your sick hypocritical freedom? Why claim to do such a thing, yet..." He stammers, tears in his eyes. "Yet allow people to be exterminated under your orders? How can a government and person claim to be for freedom... yet destroy those who are merely not you?"

The man sighs and points his pistol down. "No, my government isn't new to that, and I'm not unaware of the dirty wetwork that my A-" He stammers, before biting his lip and continuing to speak. "-Columbia has to do to preserve its status as... the bright city on a hill shining on the world," He looks at the pistol in his hands. "And besides, you don't break a few eggs to cry about your omelet."

Faust stayed quiet at that one. The man didn't seem to get the hint that he didn't want to talk, but he did get the hint that this philosophical conversation was over. He aimed his pistol directly at Mephisto, face scowling.

"Surrender, and I'll let you live," He orders. "Otherwise, you won't live to see this world's injustices fixed."

At that, Faust frowned. The offer would sound tempting... if he was far younger than he currently was. Having lived through the pain, anguish, and suffering that both Reunion and the world of Terra had... he simply didn't have any faith that the man - or his associates - could fix the problems that cause organizations like Reunion in the first place. Even if he promised, it would be just a lie.

After all, the world of Terra is built on lies.

"I'll give you a few seconds, kid," The man puts his gun down. "Otherwise, you'll meet your maker."

Immediately, Faust glanced to the sides, looking for a way to get Mephisto's attention. Yet, the sound of gunfire and explosions seemed to overpower what he could relay back to Mephisto. Realizing that he wouldn't be saved by Mephisto, his eyes rapidly darted from one side to the other. His eyes locked onto a Crossbow.

Having belonged to the crossbowman who didn't want to die at the hands of these mercenaries.

In a stroke, he dove to the right, barely missing a gunshot. And once he did so, he grabbed the crossbow and pushed himself up. He realized that the Crossbow was unloaded, and grabbed an arrow from his quiver, trying to quickly put it inside and shoot the man in front of him.

Inserting it and yanking the string backward with all his strength, Faust set his sights on the man in front of him, aiming at his head. Intending to take his life.

Yet, when his scope gave him a clear picture of the man, he didn't appear to have his gun raised. Now was his opportunity! Aim and-

Faust didn't have enough time to react nor squeeze the trigger, as footsteps from his right closed in, then a battle cry, and then - pain surged on his right cheek. He fell to the ground, dropping the Crossbow.

He barely got a look at his attacker before he pulled Faust up by the collar and hit his face with the strength of a Sarkaz mercenary. Twice.

And thus, Faust's world went black, having barely seen the face of his attacker, his expression and attacks imbued with rage.

---

United Nations Ambassador Stanley [United Nations Diplomatic Corps - Ambassador to Yugoslava] - Chernobog Rooftops - Dated December, 1096

As I knelt, I kept punching the kid's face even as he dropped to the ground. The knuckles on my hands started to bleed, and the nerves on my hands felt overwhelmed. I swear, with that many punches, my hand's nerves would be deadened to the point where cold or heat wouldn't do shit.

"Stan, you can stop now," Shrub put his hands on my shoulder. "You're making good liberal use of your punches there, you know?" He chuckled. I got up from punching him and brushed off the blood from my suit and tanker helmet. The blood on my knuckles could stay though.

"If it's Liberal to punch some snotty kid in the face," I muttered, grabbing his crossbow. "Then you can call me a Liberal."

"Jeez, Stan. Did you have to punch a kid like that? He wasn't much of a threat anyway," Shrub commented, picking up a Crossbow as well. "What in Sam Hill is this thing?" Shrub asked, fiddling with the crossbow. Like him, I also finagled with the Crossbow in my hand. I aimed through the scope on it, surprised that it had such a high-quality scope for such... a primitive weapon.

Back at home, this'd be a bypass to the Assault Weapons Ban, seeing as it was a regular crossbow rather than a simple AR-15. A lot cheaper to produce. Might cost our resources $20 rather than the $60 of the current M3 Eliminator and the slightly cheaper $40 of the old M16A2.

Of course, that's assuming we'd be able to reverse-engineer this thing. And it doesn't have a niche in the army.

I'd know, having fought with army equipment when I was part of the American Expeditionary Force back in the 1950s. 'Tis when I realized that warfare was fought with niches and such. Hell - writing about the niches of both Soviet and Allied Weaponry in a book after I left the Army helped hammer it in my head. Of course, it didn't hit the shelves until my rise to UN Ambassador.

Still wasn't a household name though.

"The hell is this thing?" Shrub asked, taking the arrow out of his crossbow and examining it. He poked his palm with one. He looked slightly surprised. "Jesus Christ, Stan, this thing's sharp." He muttered.

"Armor-piercing arrows, I suppose," I responded, pulling the string back on the crossbow I had. Off the corpse of one of the Crossbow snipers, I took the quiver off and slung it around myself, fitting it tightly. It was pretty snug.

Shrub then picked up the unconscious kid, slinging over one of his shoulders. "Jeez, this kid's heavy, makes me feel like I'm carrying a log," Shrub muttered, lifting him like one would lift a log. "I'll toss him in one of the tanks when they arrive, heard they've got space for prisoners or something." He commented. "Hold on, I'm gonna zip him up." He spoke, pulling zip ties out of his suit pocket and tying his hands and ankles together.

Now the kid'll never make it out of our sight. At least that makes it easier to interrogate him.

"How's the rest of the squad doing?" I asked, before aiming the crossbow at the chokepoint being pinned down by massed machine gun and mortar fire.

"Ah, gimme a moment Stan," Shrub said, putting the kid down to put on a quiver. "Aurora, how's the 'holding the line' stuff going along?" He asked, turning his back to me, leaving me to watch over the chokepoint. "Ah, Alright, hey, uh, I got a question."

I adjusted the zoom on the scope and noticed that there was a kid way back at the assault, guiding and pointing everyone to the chokepoint. He looked like the leader, given his language, the sheer amount of people marching to their doom at his gestures, and his... crazed expression. Almost like he believes in attrition warfare as the only victorious strategy, and that they somehow have a cloning vat nearby churning out soldier after soldier. I stopped to look out of the scope and watched as there was a literal wall of corpses just before the entry into the chokepoint.

These people might have WW2-era cloning vats at this point, Jesus Christ.

"Uh-huh," Shrub stated, still talking to the Aurora unit on the radio. "Oh. Agat unit's called you?"

I raised the Crossbow again and aimed toward the apparent commander of the assault by Reunion. This... kid. No younger than... fourteen? Yet, he led an army of savage maniacs who solely loot and kill to obtain their twisted sense of justice. I may understand the circumstances - heck, I presided over them myself as Governor.

But this doesn't give them carte blanche to kill and burn, and in the process put people's lives in danger.

In a moment, I aimed, and zeroed in on the kid's head. I didn't dial the scope in, because he was in comparatively close range. The best estimates were seventy meters away from this rooftop.

I stopped breathing and tightened the grip on the crossbow. This ends now.

"Hey, Stan!" Shrub shouted. "Agat unit's going to be reinforcing Aurora unit! Let's get do-"

He was interrupted as I fully squeezed the trigger, letting an Arrow loose on the kid. To my shock, the wind drew the arrow away and swerved it to the right, embedding it in a wall. Its only damage to him was a graze to his ear, and he could see that it even slightly bled.

But what mattered was that I fucking missed.

"Stan! What the fuck?!" He asked, panicking as I immediately bolted up.

"I had him!" I yelled, getting up and walking backward. "And I fucking missed!" I turned around. "Let's get the hell outta here, Shrub! Take the kid with ya!"

As soon as I turned around, three Reunion swordsmen had climbed up via the maintenance stairway. In a panic, I tried to use the crossbow, only for an empty click to greet me.

Immediately seeing the danger, Shrub pulled his pistol and fired at the heads of the Reunion swordsmen. They barely got a word out before their heads detonated, showering the place with gore.

"Stan what the he-" He tried speaking, only to recoil backward and fall on his back as a Molotov cocktail landed near him and the kid he zip-tied. Followed by another one. And three more. He barely made it out with the prisoner, crawling backward as the Molotovs hit. I grabbed him by the hand and dragged him up, ducking as a Molotov missed, having overshot me.

"Go! We gotta get out!" I shouted.

When Shrub had got up and dragged the kid we captured, I took the chance and made a run for the maintenance stairway. On my way, I noticed a sword from one of the dead Reunion members. Lacking a close-range weapon due to coming unarmed and expecting to stay behind the line of fire, I grabbed it and was surprised that its weight was twice that of old Earth swords. Even a heavy ceremonial sword was lighter.

And this was a standard issue among Reunion?

Jesus Christ.

Behind me, Shrub trampled down the stairs as fast as he could. That little two-piece suit and red tie of his seemed to be severely unfit for the weather and even more unfit for running away, as it seemed to have slight burns and pieces ripped off it, but to hell with fitting uniforms, he was an ISA Agent. He probably wore titanium armor under that damn suit.

And on this three-story building, we had to make sure that none of us would end up falling to the ground, so we hung onto the left-side - or wall-facing - stair railways.

See, when we had come to the rooftops, we used the maintenance stairway, which connected to the highest floor. It was normally barred off except to the workers, but Reunion had torn down that and was using it as a sniper nest. Now, a funny thing is that I and Shrub hadn't fought anyone when we snuck up to pick off the snipers. We instead snuck past them, using the cubicles as cover and such.

And the problem was that there were practically give or take two platoons on the top floor. Something that I and Shrub kind of forgot when we ran out of the doorway into the top floor. When we made it inside the top floor proper, we were greeted by arrow fire not a second after. I dove into cover, sliding forward and banging my head on one of the walls.

Shrub, meanwhile, had an arrow embedded itself in his chest, stumbling him backward and almost dropping the prisoner head-first, but in a second he dove into cover, put the kid on a wall, and ripped the arrow out of his suit, tossing it off to the side.

I stared in shock, before shaking my head and coming to my senses.

"What the hell was that? Chainmail?" I asked, holding the sword in one hand, and crossbow in the other.

"Kinda," He reloaded his pistol, pulling back the slide after inserting his magazine, and firing blindly over one of the cubicle walls. "It's anti-stab armor with padding lined inside flexible kevlar!"

"The hell kinda triple layer protection you ISA Agents work with?" I put the sword down to retrieve an arrow from the quiver, and pulled the string back, getting up and positioning my crossbow to lay flat on the table for stability.

"The kind of stuff that makes you regret not bringing C4!" Shrub responded, swapping out his Desert Eagle for a crossbow.

When I aimed at our enemies from the cubicles, I found that one person was lighting a Molotov and preparing to throw it. Immediately, I pulled the trigger after aiming directly at his arm, and when the arrow released - it knocked the Molotov he had out of his hands, slipping onto the floor below. Immediately, the fire consumed him and had also taken out two other people in the back.

"Stan, let's get a move-on! We're gonna be pinned down if we just keep firing at the from these goddamn cubicles!" Shrub shouted, grabbing the kid, lifting him, and proceeding to fire at Reunion one-handed.

I nodded, and put the Crossbow on my back via the sling, preparing my legs to vault over one of the office cubicle desks. But, I spotted swordsmen charging from the stairs to the top floor. And... I drew my sword, but truth be told, I wasn't good at this. I'd only do good with a gun.

But a gun wasn't what I was going to fight these swordsmen with.

One of them had gotten close, and thrust, aiming for my chest. I swerved to the left, drawing him close to me, and giving me full view of his right side. Before he could turn around, I lunged at him, jumping and aiming for his head. Immediately, it penetrated the hood, unprotected. And soon, it had broken through the skull, then pierced the brain.

Barbarically, I moved the sword right, slicing his head open from the top. The grisly results made themselves obvious as he tripped, spilling brain matter on the floor. On the blade, were brain matter and blood. At that moment, I glanced back to the corpse, and back to the sword I had picked up.

In the adrenaline rush that happened after I picked up the crossbow to defend myself, I had forgotten that I was once a diplomat. And I only remembered that because of my credentials. The once pristine formal wear I donned for this mission found itself coated, mostly by dust and blood.

I didn't have enough time to wonder at what I have done, as another swordsman tried to rush at me. But he overshot and barely missed my arm in his botched attempt at hacking my body off. In response, I plunged the sword through his stomach, instantly killing him.

Just merely waiting for Reunion to attack was only going to be an attrition battle that would be fruitless.

No, what I wanted was to take it to them personally. To pave a way out and regroup with Aurora. And by God, I would do that first.

Immediately, I vaulted over the desk and found myself battling not one, but two swordsmen. Immediately, I put my sword in a blocking position, backing away as I stared at them.

Off to the left, Shrub seemed to go with his flow and shot at Reunion with his Desert Eagle while still carrying his prisoner apparently, the noise of the shots moving forward in between. I glanced at the wall separating Shrub and me, then turned back to the three swordsmen facing me down.

"Alright," I muttered. "If that's how you want to play..." I took a deep breath and moved my right leg back.

I told myself I wasn't very good with swords, but if my killing those two swordsmen was anything to go by...

...Maybe I should try it out for a change.

"Die!" I shouted, thrusting my sword. To my surprise, he seemed to block it using his sword's tip, leaving me open to attack from one of his partners. I didn't have time to react as he slashed at my left shoulder. To the right, I was able to parry a sword attack.

Immediately, the left one aimed for my waist. In response, I smacked his sword with the tip of mine and slashed at his shoulder. But, the middle one had an opening and had stabbed into my waist. I recoiled, covering it with my right hand. Immediately, the right swordsman attempted to cut me open with a straight-down attack. As soon as I saw the blade, I blocked it with the flat side of my sword, pushing his sword off.

As soon as his blade was pushed off, I used my free hand to guide my sword, guiding it. I thrust it into the mask of the left swordsman, breaking it. But before I could deliver the killing blow, the middle swordsman made a move to strike at my back with a diagonal-to-right attack. When he raised his arm to strike, I quickly moved it right and into the arm of the middle swordsman. The strike caused him to halt. I pulled back and swung a second time, slicing further into his arm.

I left myself open from the back, and this cost me. Immediately, I felt a sharp pain in my back - as if I was being punched. I turn and the right swordsman stabbed me in the back while I was not looking. He pulled out, and immediately a cold yet hot feeling found itself in the sliced part of my back. It seemed to have only pierced the surface and inner flesh, but not any bones.

Terrible mistake.

I let out a guttural scream as I aimed to strike at the right swordsman's head. Not to explicitly stab him, but use the momentum and the weight of the sword to crack his skull, and cutting it open would just be a beneficial side effect. He didn't get to say anything, as the sword sliced through his flesh, then his skull. I pulled back, before slashing left to do the same to the middle swordsman.

Unfortunately, though, he rotated his face diagonally, causing my strike to only cut off his right ear. But, at that moment, I couldn't decrease the momentum and weight in the left-side strike that was supposed to tear the middle man's head off. And as a result, when it came around, it was about to swing and hit the left-side swordsman.

He wasn't so lucky.

As soon as the blade struck his head, it cleaved through his scalp and struck the skull. As soon as the sword hit the hard bone, I pulled the sword back, leaving this man with a half-cut scalp and cranium. Both he and the right side swordsman stumbled back, before tripping on an office desk, and slamming their head against the wall, instantly knocking them out.

Or killing them.

And that left me with the middle swordsman, who turned to his right to see the right swordsman gone and groped at where his ear used to be. I heard a fairly audible gasp as he put down his hands only to find blood where his ear used to be. And he didn't go back to fighting me, just continued to feel for where his right ear used to be. At that moment, I pulled back and sprinted at full speed. A second later, a thrust from my sword gave him bigger worries than his ear.

It punched through his vest and was generally around the heart or chest area. I kept running with his body impaled on my sword until I hit a wall right next to the doorway to the next floor below. I lifted the sword out of his chest just as he crashed his back into the wall, likely cracking some bones along the way, and dropping his sword next to him.

Immediately I struck. Before he got up and could grab the sword, I lifted him by the collar and began to bash his head against a window to the right.

"WHY!" I yelled, bashing his head into the glass. "WON'T!" I bashed his head into the glass a second time, only harder, causing his skull to crack, the noise of which overpowered Shrub's Desert Eagle. "YOU!" I stabbed my sword into his chest a second time, twisting it and then pulling it out. "DIE!" I finally yelled, plunging the sword into the upper torso, around the area of the spine and spinal cord.

And then, I bashed him against the window a final time. The brittle window shattered as he fell backward, sword plunged into his spine or neck area with two stab wounds to the chest and a broken skull. When he plummeted to his doom, I felt a sense of relief. He went 'splat' very soon. Even if he survived, he would've had two gaping wounds, a broken skull, and blood loss.

Nearby, was his sword, untouched because I killed him before he could try to reach it. I grabbed it and walked through the doorway. And almost immediately, Agent Shrub met me and we both converged on the doorway.

"Jesus Christ, Stan," Shrub muttered, face contorting into a horrified expression, almost like he saw the aftermath of a terror attack. "You look like you've crawled out of a shlocky movie. What the hell did you do to the Reunion grunts over there?"

I took a good look at myself after that remark and ran my hand across my face. To my surprise, I felt blood. Fresh blood. I took to wiping it on my clothes, but I found that it had been caked in blood, painting my clothes a dark crimson that serve to remind one of mortality. I instead pressed the hand with the blood on the wall, creating the signature blood hand press.

"I..." I took a minute to breathe in and out, looking at the blood on myself. I felt a part of me trying to scream, yet with everything else trying to kill me... I just couldn't. "I got cornered... by Reunion melee infantry... At least five of 'em on my office sector. I got the right office sector, and only got a firebomber with the crossbow, fought the rest... with the sword..." I wheezed, and I swore my grip on the sword in my other hand loosened.

"I... Jeez Louise," Shrub sighed, turning around to look at where he came from. "I got ten after me, yet they just... died to the pistol," He pulled the slide on his Desert Eagle, chambering a round. "And I'm still carrying the kid, hah." He later coughed but recovered a second later. Turning to me, he spoke. "I don't suppose you can clean yourself up when we get back to base, aye?" He said, smiling. In response, I smiled while frowning. If he was gonna pull that kinda stuff, I guess I better come up with a retort in response.

"Buy me a beer first, oil baron." I retorted, grasping the sword with my other hand now that I got the blood off it. In response, Shrub crossed his arms and went into a thinking pose, before shrugging his shoulders.

"I'll think about it, but hopefully we get to the barracks first," He responded. "Let's get going."

I nodded, letting Shrub take the point. I turned around, walked backward, and kept an eye on the top-floor stairway. Even if there wasn't anything likely to follow us at all.

When we neared the floor below, I turned around and followed Shrub's forward-facing vision, keeping my sword at the ready while Shrub had his Desert Eagle trained at the doorway.

When both I and Shrub made it to the lower floor, we ground to a halt after a smokescreen seemed to fill the floor. I raised my sword ready to strike, while Shrub kept his pistol trained.

"I don't like the look of this..." Shrub muttered, keeping his pistol close to him.

"Neither do I." I added, backing away. The both of us walked backward until we were shoulder-to-shoulder near the doorway. The sound of footsteps in the smokescreen drew our attention, and Shrub raised his pistol, ready to fire.

"International Security! Step out and put your hands up!" Shrub shouted into the fog, pistol still sweeping the fog. The footsteps continued, growing in volume and intensity. It seemed that there were a lot of people behind the smokescreen. I gripped the sword harder, to the point of my fingers lightly pressing on my skin, giving me immense pain. Meanwhile, Shrub had his pistol still trained on the smoke. And the Prisoner.

And it was at that moment we heard clapping. Bemused, I put my sword down, and Shrub put his pistol down, yet didn't let go of the prisoner. We both glanced at each other as the clapping grew closer and closer.

Lo and behold the smokescreen had finally cleared. And coming out of it was the kid I almost shot in the head with the crossbow. I frowned, raising my sword in defense. Just in case their commander was going to try something stupid, I would cleave his head off if I had to. Shrub, meanwhile, just kept his stoic expression as he watched him come forward, clapping.

"And look what we have here," He said - in very fluent English! His eyes were closed but he had a sickly joyful smile. I wanted to retch at the absolute putridity of his expression, but I could only muster a small amount of anger in the form of a sneer at this kid's mere presence. "Those who dare trample their boots down on us, daring to escape the justice they deserve!" He laughed, a smarmy form of joy radiating from him.

"Shrub, I don't like listening to this kid, Why don't we just call hi-" I barely got out before Shrub suddenly slammed the prisoner down headfirst into the ground, and picked them up by the rear collar. Horrifyingly, Shrub's stoic expression turned into fiery anger as he barked his next statement out with such a fiery tone that if it was a weapon, it would kill someone the moment it was unsheathed.

"STAND BACK OR THIS KID GETS A BULLET IN HIS HEAD!" Shrub shouted, slamming the Desert Eagle barrel right next to the prisoner's face. At that moment, his smarmy smile and closed eyes opened, morphing into a briefly terrified expression. In just a flash, he morphed back into absolute hatred. All the meanwhile, Shrub continued to press the Desert Eagle barrel against his bleeding head, fully intent on not backing down from his threat.

"You Ursus bastard!" The commander shouted, his smarmy joy and pure-white cleanliness ruined in an instant. He tried to step forward, only to recoil backward when Shrub's trigger finger started to retract, putting pressure on the trigger. He switched targets and shouted his threats.

"I'M WARNING YOU!" Shrub shouted, pointing his pistol at the commander this time. "YOU TAKE ONE STEP FURTHER, AND I'M BLOWING HIS FUCKING HEAD OFF!" Shrub snarled, sweeping the pistol before returning it to his head.

"Why you-" He yelled, stammering and moving forward before immediately stepping back. "Men, I want them dead!"

"But sir! They'll kill Faust!" I heard one of the Reunion soldiers in English. "Without him, the sniper teams are all dead!" He continued. I couldn't discern the voice among the hundreds of Reunion soldiers surrounding us, but I could tell that Shrub was going to press it.

"Damnit!-"

"Yeah, listen!" Shrub responded. "Take a single step forward, and this kid's brains are going to be all over the floor!"

The commander's frown and snarl intensified. "You filthy Ursus vermin... How the hell can you not die?! Why?! Just why won't you die?!"

At that, I felt a vein burst in my head. This myopia was just one irritating thing, but having come out of a swordfight and feeling like I just got punched multiple times combined with the burning feel of an open wound just ensured I'd burst. While Shrub didn't respond, I spoke in his place instead.

"Fuck off!" I shouted, intervening before Shrub can continue. "I've never seen a more disorganized insurgency than you all! And what's with your leaders anyway?!" I pointed my sword at the supposed commander. "A kid?! No wonder you assholes can't aim, you're led by kids! You should all be ashamed that you even let your commanders fall into capture!"

He lashed out in rage, thrashing as I yelled. "I will kill every single one of you! You will all die! Vermin, the lot of you Ursus imperials are!"

At that point, I could only feel my right eye twitching, and I didn't like it.

So, I fought back.

"Let me ask you this, asshole," I blurted out, completely pissed. "If your little buddy over here were raped and murdered-"{1} I pointed my sword at the prisoner, Shrub seemed horrified at my statement. "In the name of 'justice and retribution' against oppression, would you support this little 'anti-oppression' thing?" I continued, awaiting his response to... this inflammatory question.

He stammered, face shifting into a flabbergasted... or horrified one. The fact that it even crossed my mind as a question was baffling apparently to the commander. I even heard some audible gasps as the lines of Reunion.

And amusingly, some distracting statements from the Reunion soldiers.

"What the fuck?!"

"I-I-Just-"

"...I knew Imperials were murderers, but this-!"

"S-Shut up!"

The Commander kept stammering for a minute or two. The question was armor-piercing, having shot straight through the heart. At that moment, I nudged Shrub's hip, with him turning to look. I moved my elbow backward. I wanted him to jump off the stairs and land on the ground, but it was a gamble that'd be deadly, as we'd be falling about ten meters below, and our only impact breakers are dumpsters. Hopefully, we land on trash, otherwise, we're screwed.

It seemed Shrub got the idea since he nodded and pulled the prisoner back by the collar.

"Oh, let me ask all of you," I turned back, preparing to say the question again. "Why the hell do all of you join if you're not ready to stomach the realities of being barbarian savages?" I pointed my sword. "All of you seem ready to fight, yet you all balk when I ask you about the realities from the other side. Why, you're all cowards! Every single one of you! Man has to stomach that they will face horrible things in the line of duty, but all of you can't? You should all be ashamed!"

"Shut up Imperia-"

Shrub's pistol being aimed at the heckler shut him up quickly. And even more Reunion personnel shut up once Shrub pressed his gun back onto the prisoner's head.

While they were busy recovering from the question and getting ready to hurl insults at me. I started walking backward, brushing Shrub to let him know that I was getting ready to jump. He nodded and started walking backward too, nearing the right-facing railways - the ones that didn't have any walls to protect us if we fell. The stepping started slow, and hopefully-

"Hey! They're about to make a run for it!"

"To plummet to their deaths? Ha!" One Reunion soldier said, raising his sword. "Face it! You've got nowhere to run now! Give up, and maybe we'll kill you faster!"

The commander, meanwhile, shook his head. "The imperials resort to cowardly tactics... talking in an attempt to stall and shatter the hearts of liberators. You all will pay."

He moved his hands and pointed them at us. Now was our time to shine.

"Seize the-" He tried to shout, but couldn't get a chance to finish. At that moment, Shrub snapped his aim to shoot at the commander's stomach. The impact of the round knocked him backward, and even caused him to slam against the wall of the office.

I quickly turned around and leaped off the railway.

"JUMP!" I shouted, plummeting off the railway aiming to impact a dumpster to break my fall. Shrub followed, shielding the prisoner with himself and leaping backward, using his own back to shield the prisoner from any violent injury.

When we both landed, I landed my back facing the sky and thus impacted face-first into a dumpster lid. But I could feel my functions, and even quickly rolled to get myself out of Shrub's landing zone. As I did so, Shrub straight up dive-bombed into the dumpster lid, the weight of him and the prisoner carving a large dent in the lid.

As soon as I could feel my senses come back, I got up and looked right. At the right, I heard engine noises and the cracking of concrete in the chokepoint that Reunion tried to assault through. That seemed to be Agat platoon's tanks. Looking back up to see Reunion staring down at us ready to fire, I sprinted as fast as I could to link up with them. And following me was Shrub, still carrying the prisoner over his shoulder.

I barely escaped an arrow barrage and Molotov barrage as I turned left at the corner that led into the chokepoint assault zone, and ran into the area where the VDV contingent held their own against Reunion. While tailing them, I saw the armored vehicles flatten the mountain of corpses and ran behind them. It was visceral to hear the tanks and IFVs crush the bones and flesh of the corpse pile, creating mushy, fleshy red stain of jagged bones, thick blood,

"Friendly! I'm friendly!" I shouted, waving my arms around, sword still in hand. Initially, the VDV squad cautiously aimed at me, but their tenseness went away in a second.

Behind me, Shrub holstered his pistol and walked up to the dumpster wall of the VDV squad. When they lowered their weapons and confirmed that we were friendlies, he tossed the prisoner on the wall.

I, meanwhile, sat down and leaned on the wall, taking a moment to clean myself. I thought that I'd have ended active combat after Korea in '63. But it seemed that I'd be back to fighting, at the ripe age of 62. I morbidly chuckled at fighting despite being at the prime age to retire but I used the moment to clean up in the foggy, rainy weather before I'd go back to fighting.

A pain in my rear alright.

---

International Security Agent 'Shrub' [Organization of American States - ISA America Divsion] - Chernobog Alleyway - Dated December, 1096

"Who's this, Agent Shrub?" Petrov asked, bemused at Shrub's prisoner. In response, Shrub sighed and shook his head.

"Commander of the sniper unit that ambushed us. Seemed pretty important to the Reunion contingent here, apparently was pretty close to the Commander of the local forces," He turned around and stared at the now-flattened corpse pile. "We're bagging him as a prisoner." He took a sealed lollipop out of his pocket and opened it, eating the candy.

"I'd never expect you ISA Agents to leave witnesses alive. I always thought you ISA were secretive?" Petrov asked, amused that Shrub even brought a prisoner. In response, he chuckled and turned around, the lollipop still in his mouth.

"Oh, unfortunately, they've seen us and lived to tell the tale," He said, smiling. "But that doesn't mean that people will believe them, no? Tales of mercenaries in dashing uniforms assisted by an intelligence operative and a diplomat engaging in brutal combat?" He laughed. "Sounds like a pulp magazine story."

"Radical," Petrov mumbled, chuckling a little. "But let's get a move on. With Reunion sent battered and retreating due to their failure, we can expect an easier time breaking into the concentration camp that used to be a school."

"Mhm," Shrub noted. "What's the plan, Petrov?" He asked, crossing his arms as Petrov took a non-erasable sharpie pen, and began to draw on the dumpster. In the meantime, Vladimir the squad leader rallied the rest of the squad to gather around Petrov's attempt to strategize.

"Our strategy depends on the following factors," He illustrated the camp. "How linked are the defenders," He draws a mostly perfect half-circle around the camp. "They've ambushed us at least thrice already, so they know that we may be attacking north, and we can't divert to attack south before the weather clears up," He draws an arrow advancing to the half-circle. "If we attack from the front outright, we'll be slaughtered."

He then drew Xs on the line. "But if we soften them up by scattering the defenders and opening a chink in their defensive line, we'll be able to break into their lines and attack them where they have no cover," He later drew arrows approaching from the Xs, turning sharp lefts and rights, representing the flanking we'd have to do to destroy the defenders from within. "Once the defenders are destroyed, we hunker down and call for extraction once the satellite's back up. Once the helicopters arrive, we extract."

"Execution," He continued. "Agat Platoon will split into one BMD and one Sprut each, accompanied by four soldiers in each assault team," He drew a split on the arrows representing assault in general and pointed them to the Xs. Those represented our assault teams splitting to scrape off the walls of their defense. "Each team will attack narrowly defended spots - use repair drones and any explosive weapons to scatter defenders away from these spots. Then, when they're scattered, break through the lines. The teams will split further and clean up the remnants. Once done, we will regroup and turn the camp into a defensive position. When the downtime clears, we will call for extraction."

"If possible, call the 5th Guards Tank Division, 2nd Bomber Aviation Regiment, and Nyebo. The 5th Guards will help clean up Reunion stragglers, the 2nd Bomber Regiment will be able to wipe them out giving us some breathing room, and Nyebo will extract the children and prisoner." Vladimir spoke. "Any questions?"

"Sir, if I may ask..." Dimitri asked. "Are we going to stay here after extraction?"

"Yes, Dima," Petrov sighed forlornly. "As much as we want to go home, only the Diplomat and Agent will go home. The rest of us will be setting up a refugee zone, to rescue any lost soul still trapped in this necropolis. The 5th Guards are expected to reinforce us should Agat lose their vehicles, and the 2nd Bomber will be rotated out once the refugee zone is complete. Replaced by a helicopter unit."

Dimitri nodded. "I understand." He noted, before setting his machine gun down and reloading it.

"Any further questions?" Petrov asked. "No? Then let's get a move on," He glanced at Vladimir. "Vlad. Take Dimitri, Kiril, Ilyin, and Anatoly. I'll take the rest."

"Roger that."

The team then began to move, but Petrov remained just to address me. "Comrade Agent Shrub. Go with Vladimir's team, and take the Diplomat with you too. You'll be infiltrating from the rear and attacking them while they're unprotected," I nodded in response. "I'll be going with the other team."

"Got it, Petrov. Good luck out there."

"S'nami Bog, Agent." He said, turning around and putting the marker in his pocket, going with the other soldiers that weren't with Vladimir.

I grabbed the prisoner and hoisted him by the shoulder, then glanced at Stan.

"Oi. Stan. Get up," I said. "We're leaving."

"About damn time," he said, getting himself up. Compared to earlier, Stan now looked relatively cleaner. The blood on his face had been wiped off, replaced by slight grime and mostly rainwater. His tank crewman hat remained, though. His clothes looked far less bloodstained, and more like just... wet. That being said, he looked like he was chilly. Maybe the BMD would improve that.

Stan and I walked over to the BMD that belonged to Vladimir's team, and Stan opened the door. After he opened the door and had a seat near the door, I set the prisoner on an empty seat - the last one in fact - and climbed onto the vehicle to sit on the rear. The soldiers found this odd and even came to ask me about it.

"Not going to sit down?" One of the soldiers asked, poking out of the BMD's rear doors. I shook my head. No need to have our prisoner suffering from infections before we could interrogate him.

"No thanks. I'd rather not have the prisoner catch pneumonia," I noted, taking the lollipop stick out of my mouth, the candy long since melted. I tossed the stick on the floor. "I'll be fine up here, just tell me when y'all need me to take them out from the inside."

"Got it, boss." The soldier replied, closing the door. I was left there, to take a moment in. Taking another lollipop out of my pocket, I stuffed it in my mouth quickly, needing the sugar to destress myself. The BMD engine then fired up, the noise drowning out the rain that covered the dying necropolis.

And in the midst of this, I could only put my head down and dangle my legs down while the BMD moved.

It was going to be another long day before I could go home.

Please don't be disappointed in me, Dad.

---

Efreytor Anatoly Smirnov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Streets of Chernobog - Dated December, 1096

I couldn't stop myself from glancing at the prisoner that Agent Shrub had brought into the IFV. Nobody in this IFV could.

I would have expected the commanders of Reunion to be something like middle-aged or young adults. Yet, the prisoner with us was... about the same age as my nieces and nephews. Fourteen-ish. And here he was, commanding a horrible insurgency that slaughtered all people, civilian and police alike, just for their twisted and perverted form of 'justice' and 'retribution'. God forgive them, for they do not know what to do. Yet, I couldn't help but feel anger. Not at him, no.

But rather, the world. If people like him were driven to horrible things, terrorism among them, that did not paint me a beautiful image of the world of Terra. The best we knew of was that it was not Earth, and quite a lot of things were both similar and different. Yet, this implied that everything was... bad. I had heard quite a lot about Reunion's modus operandi relying on their twisted sense of justice, and that they had a sizeable support base. I thought that was a mere exaggeration until I saw how many bodies had been piled on top of each other during the assault on our wall.

The rest of the squad remained silent as we continued our journey to help assault the camp.

"You alright, Anatoly?" Ilyin asked, his hand shaking as he gripped the barrel. The battles and ambushes before our travel had given us the shakes, and poor Ilyin's cold hands displayed it.

"No, unfortunately," I conceded, holding the barrel while glancing at the prisoner once again. A pang hit me in the gut, seeing a kid like this swept into a cause like this. "The prisoner just... he looks like around the same age as my nephews and nieces," I once again did the sign of the cross, starting with my right hand to the forehead, them to my chest, then to my left and right shoulders. "I pray to God to absolve these children, and rescue them from their situation."

The IFV remained silent, all of them glancing at the prisoner. It lasted for a minute or so when someone broke the silence. A cough, from the diplomat. He was coughing hoarsely, even leaning over to pound his chest to cough.

The coughs stopped, and Stan was able to recover his breathing, leaning back to the IFV seat. "You okay?" Kiril asked. "You, uh, don't sound very okay over there."

"No, no-" Stan coughed one last time, before smoothening his voice with a long ahem. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"Stan," Kiril deadpanned. "You're coughing and wheezing hoarsely, Are you sure you're okay? You might have a cold. You might be put out of action for a while. Just hunker down in the camp and wait for extraction, alright Stan?"

Stan turned to Kiril and nodded mouthing off an 'Alright'. Then, he turned back to himself, leaning his head down and facing his knees. Vaguely reminiscent of a prayer pose, yet secular. Was he going to make it out? I prayed that he did. Pious men of God or non-believers alike, everyone had to make it out of this trial, and I would ensure I did that.

God is with us.

"Hey, uh," Ilyin spoke, breaking the silence. "But, Tolya, you mentioned you had nieces and nephews?"

"Yeah," I answered, a short-lived grin on my face before it turned into a forlorn frown. "They're in Saint Petersburg, I promised I'd come back after my deployment in the Self-Defense Forces. Said that I'd come back with tales of adventure and parables from God," I could only chuckle a little as I started to feel tears well in my eyes. But I couldn't bring myself to look so depressed just near the end of an operation, so I wiped my eyes. Yet a faint hiccup escaped my voice, and I couldn't suppress that. "Haha... I'm stuck in this prison, without a way out. And so are we." I used my free hand to cover my eyes, trying to get tears out of my eyes to the best of my ability.

More silence, as the soldiers one by one looked down at themselves, down to their dog tags.

It barely lasted a minute before some of the soldiers began to tear up. Not to the point of sobbing, but I noticed Ilyin's eyes loosen as he seemed to be less... joyful about things now. Ilyin and Kiril were perfect at debating over the most random, seinfeldian things ever. Yet, here Ilyin was, breathing in and out and rapidly squeezing his forehead. A headache maneuver, and not a crying one.

Kiril could only shake his head, and put both hands on the rifle barrel, holding them as close as possible.

"I wish I could speak to my family," Stan spoke, scratching his back and glancing at the prisoner. "Katharine's going to be pissed." He chuckled, a morbid tone rendering it a hollow laugh rather than a genuine expression.

"Anyone else knows that old song about the invasion of Afghanistan during the Second World War, uh," Kiril spoke up. "Swallowing Dust, was it?"

"Afghan, Afghan, Afghan... Afghan, Afghanistan," Ilyin sang out. "Yeah, what about it?" He asked.

"Just wanted to ask," Kiril replied, shivering in his seat as the rainwater made him feel soggy. "Just wanted to know if anyone here's listened to tunes from the Second World War."

"I wouldn't call it a real Second World War song," Ilyin replied, shaking his head. "But it's the closest that one gets when one's stuck in a hellhole with no way out."

"The Black Tulips are circling over the air," Kiril snickered, taking the magazine off his rifle. "And I've got only one magazine left. Sounds about right."

"What, did you bring your Grach with you?" Ilyin exasperatedly replied. "I hope you're kidding and you brought a Grach with you, otherwise we're fucked." He replied smarmily. Kiril put the magazine in his RPK back and racked the charging handle.

"Oh, no. I just brought a Makarov with me."

"What, that old Second World War shit?"

"Hey, don't insult it. You'll never know when this 'Second World War' shit is going to save your ass in a tight situation. Always be wary, Ilyin. Aaaaalways be wary."

"As if I'll need it."

"Suit yourself."

The conversation died down as Kiril racked the slide of his Makarov, before putting it in his chest holster. The rest of the ride continued silently, as everyone was left to their devices.

In a second, the IFV stopped and the light inside turned green. "That's our signal, Aurora!" Vladimir shouted, flicking the safety off on his rifle. "Open the door! Let's go!" He shouted. The soldier next to the door immediately opened the BMD's rear right door, and jumped out, while Shrub jumped down from the BMD's back, and opened the left door, and grabbed the prisoner.

He stepped aside, letting the soldiers sitting on the left side of the BMD jump out. I was one of the last to jump out, following Ilyin and Kiril as the third-last person to get out of the IFV.

The team huddled in a circle, with Vladimir crouching down to discuss the plans. Crouching down, I put my rifle on the ground and listened to the squad leader communicate.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do," Vladimir ordered. "We're going to use Tolya's mortar to soften our flanking point here," He drew an imaginary X on the ground. "The defenders are going to be scattered by the mortar fire. Tolya's got a camera round so he's able to see them from up high," Vladimir turned to me. "You've got strobes for the Night Vision camera mode? The IFF ones, yeah?"

I nodded, pointing to the Mortar on my back with my thumb. "Yeah. SPARCS* rounds can detect IFF strobes. They also work in Thermal Imaging, which enables me to point out enemies that haven't been scattered away."

"Good," Vladimir nodded. "Once they're scattered, we open another dent in their defense lines and give an opening for Petrov's team. Tolya's mortar will provide fire support for Petrov's team as well."

Great, I thought. I'm being voluntold. I could only nod, but internally I felt like I was about to die inside. Being voluntold was not a fun experience.

But unfortunately, I was going to be part of the operation whether I wanted to or not. Oh well, once this attack maneuver was over, I'd be able to provide fire support before extraction arrives. That seemed much more fun.

"Then when both teams are in position, we flank the rest of the defenders. Each team will split and pursue outer defenders. Once the outer defenders are gone, we enter the camp and hunker down until extraction arrives. Then, we extract the hostages and the prisoner," Vlad stood up, carrying his rifle. "Any questions?" He scrolled around, waiting for an answer.

When he only received silence in the form of the rain pattering against the ground, he nodded. "Good. Let's move out." He began moving in conjunction with the IFV and the Sprut-SD.

The fog began to clear, and we could see the defenders, through the misty weather. Their defenses were ramshackle, almost amateur. Comprised of concrete barriers painted with the Reunion symbols, sandbags that were made by children, pitch tents, and assorted trash and dumpsters. We stopped, and the squad scattered. I put my rifle down and began to set the Mortar up, positioning it against my knee.

"Tolya, launch a cam round," Vladimir ordered, bringing up binoculars. "Fire where I order you to." He continued.

Loading a SPARCS round inside the mortar, pressed the Mortar through its launching handle. A 'thump' echoed in the air as the SPARCS round launched upwards, before its rear shell broke off to reveal a tiny engine and propeller, keeping the SPARCS round airborne. Older SPARCS rounds were parachuted and eventually fell to the ground, but the model my unit's VDV Mortarmen had were drones.

"I count twelve hostiles. Marking them now," I commented, flipping my eyepiece and observing Reunion hostiles through the SPARCS. "Fragmentation or High-explosive?" I asked, pulling two shells out of my belt. Vladimir didn't respond for a few seconds, leaving me to glance back at Vladimir.

He glanced back at me. "Frags," He replied, "Want 'em to scatter."

I nodded, putting the HE round back on my belt, and loaded in the frag. Moving the SPARCS camera around, I caught a bunch of Reunion soldiers moving around, possibly to investigate. Taking the chance, I immediately pushed the Mortar down using the launch handle, with a 'Thoomp' sound echoing. Immediately I loaded another Fragmentation round and fired the Mortar again. And for a third time, I put another Fragmentation round into the Mortar, and out came another frag launch.

Through the SPARCS, I witnessed Reunion soldiers looking up into the air as the thumps echoed in the air. Not a fraction of a second later, the three frag rounds hit the defense line of the Reunion soldiers, blanketing the camp in smoke.

"Impact, splash," I responded, pulling a Smoke round out of my belt to load into the Mortar this time. "Launching a smoke round."

The smoke round was painted with a white stripe, indicating its status as a white smoke round. Launched, and aimed at the entrance to cover up the team's position.

"Impact, splash." I commented, watching the smoke round impact the ground.

When the smoke impacted the ground, Vladimir stood up and fetched his assault rifle.

"This is where we make our charge." He ordered, raising his rifle in the sky. "Eradicate the terrorist menace. They will taste their blood, their own medicine." Placing a grenade in the grenade launcher, he aimed his rifle up.

"Death to Reunion."

He fired his grenade launcher, a high-explosive round being launched. The Sprut and BMD rushed forward, aiming at the barricade. Through the SPARCS, I saw Reunion scatter away as the autocannon rounds rapidly fired on them. They scattered out of their barricades. One Reunion soldier had his head crushed as he dove into cover only to get squashed by the BMD tracks.

The six-man team of Vladimir, Dimitri, Ilyin, Kiril, Stan, and Shrub - not counting the prisoner - made use of the concrete barriers and fired while advancing.

"Tolya," Vladimir spoke. "They're regrouping near the barrel on fire. Requesting a frag round at that location, over."

"Roger. Loading fragmentation." I replied, nodding. I loaded a fragmentation round, moving the SPARCS camera towards a barrel on fire, where the Reunion soldiers regrouped. I spotted men equipped with Molotov cocktails, swords, and crossbows. I moved the Mortar down, changed the angle of the barrel, and fired.

"Frag round out!" I replied.

Not a second later, they exploded. I saw one man lose his arms first as they were sliced through before a large piece of shrapnel smashed into his head, killing him instantly.

"They aren't going to recover from that," Ilyin commented on the radio. "Hey, wait. Tolya! There are several fleeing to the right. Can you hit 'em with a high-explosive round?"

"Roger. Loading high-explosive." I replied, loading an HE round and firing at the men fleeing right. "HE rounds launched. Impact to be expected."

"Alright," Ilyin replied. "Aaaaand... impact, splash."

Immediately, through SPARCS I saw a mortar strike the position in front of them, sending them back. One soul was unfortunate enough to get impaled on a piece of rebar that belonged to a concrete barrier. The rest simply died of concussions or skull fractures. At least, that's what I hope happened. They could just as well be alive and kicking.

But that didn't matter now.

"Oh shit!" Dimitri yelled over the radio. "Reunion are coming out of the school! Tolya, give us some covering fire!"

Taking out a frag round, I jammed it inside the Mortar and launched it. And another one was launched. Following that, another launch. And yet again, another launch. Through the SPARCS, I saw the mortar rounds start to scatter and corral them from potential kill zones. Rather than counter-attacking, they took cover and moved around to get away from the mortar fire. A futile process.

As horrible of an experience, as this is, it became a chore to me rather than anything to ask God's forgiveness for.

I just hope that Reunion learns to forgive themselves and their enemies in the eyes of God, lest they be sentenced to damnation.

Maybe these men may learn to find peace.

---

Captain Vladimir Borisov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Peterheim Middle School - Dated December, 1096

"Fragmentation out!"

"Watch that flank! Crossbowmen!"

"Dogs! Shoot!"

I hugged the wall and blindly fired my AK-64M, the bullets wildly spraying. "Hit them with a frag round Tolya!" I shouted into the radio.

"On it," I received. "Impact to be expected."

A shell landed not too far off, that being Tolya's. Vaulting up and diving into cover, I loaded a high explosive grenade inside the grenade launcher on my AK-64M. Blindly, I pulled the trigger vaguely in Reunion's direction. Once the grenade detonated, I poked out of cover. Catching my eye was a Reunion soldier who looked significantly larger than the rest.

"Heavy trooper!" I shouted, pointing at the larger... soldier. He looked ragged, almost like a drifter. Yet he carried a blade that would have been rather formidable in a melee fight.

"I want that Heavy trooper gone!" I shouted, loading a grenade into the grenade launcher. Aiming at the Reunion heavy soldier, I watched as the grenade slammed into his head, and exploded. Much to my surprise, he simply stumbled back, staggering.

"Hold on!" Dimitri shouted, running forward and putting his machine gun bipod down, and mounted it on the dumpster. "I got this!" He squeezed the machine gun trigger, the bullets slamming into the Heavy Trooper.

From one of the entrances to the school, Reunion soldiers rushed out, intent on using the Heavy Trooper as a distracting vanguard to pick off the rest of us. Immediately, I grabbed a frag grenade from my vest and pulled the pin, releasing the lever and throwing it at the Reunion troops. They flew upward as the explosion propelled them up.

I went back to my rifle. But while I firing fully automatic, I felt my gun click. Immediately I ripped the Magazine out, only for it to reveal that it still had five rounds left. That only meant one thing.

Jam!

I put my rifle down, the sling holding the rifle onto my chest. Instead, I switched to my pistol. The MP-443 Grach. I quickly aimed at the remaining Reunion soldiers who ran out of the school. Rather than aiming for center-of-mass, I always aimed for their head first and foremost. Their masks and gear really couldn't hold up against 9x19mm Parabellum. Surprising.

"Cover Dima!" I shouted. "Take down that Heavy Trooper! I'll deal with the grunts!"

"Roger!"

I pulled another grenade out of my vest, flicked the pin away, and pressed the lever, throwing it at Reunion with all my strength. The grenade exploded mid-air, just in front of the Heavy Trooper's face. Immediately, he staggered heavily and dropped his sword, covering his face. Noticing his weakness, I pointed at the Heavy trooper, yelling at the radio.

"Heavy trooper's down! Target him!"

"Yes, sir!" Ilyin yelled, opening fire.

In a second, the staggering Reunion Heavy trooper fell, slamming into the ground with his full weight.

"He's dead."

I got out of cover, glancing at the battlefield where Reunion used to be. The squad sat at their place for a while. When there were no more attacks, they got out of cover, but were careful to not underestimate the tenacity of Reunion, so they stuck together when they moved up, with Dimitri being the vanguard while Ilyin and Kiril guarded the sides. I, meanwhile, chose to walk toward their corpses to confirm their death.

The area stank of lead, and gunpowder, and was soaking wet. When I walked over to the dead bodies of the Reunion soldiers, I watched the blood dilute in water, creating a red, semi-transparent watery liquid. I once heard that blood being diluted in water was symbolic, that of blood and casualties being wiped away, like tears in water. How meaningless death was. I could make a more erudite philosophical statement, yet I couldn't find myself putting effort into that thought.

I could only bring myself to shake my head.

Meaningless.

"Area's clear." Dimitri communicated, sighing in relief as he slung his machine gun over his shoulder rather than carrying it two-handed with the grip and carry handle. Ilyin and Kiril, meanwhile, kept their rifles up.

"Dima, station that machine gun facing the door," I ordered, pointing at a concrete barrier that faced the doorway of the school camp. "They might be preparing for a defense situation. We'll need you suppressing them before we move."

"Roger that, sir." Dima responded, putting his machine gun down on the concrete barrier. He unfolded the bipod and crouched down, peering through the sights. I then turned over to look at Ilyin and Kiril. I quickly pointed at two opposing walls covering the doorway.

"Ilyin, Kiril. Get into position over at the door."

"On it." Ilyin responded, turning around and hugging the wall of the left doorway. Kiril, meanwhile, positioned himself on the wall of the right doorway.

"Alright," I spoke, on the radio. "Anatoly. The area's clear. You can go support the Assault B-Team."

On the radio, I heard Anatoly grunt an mhm. "Da. Repositioning. God be with you, over."

"S'nami Bog, out." I responded. When Anatoly got off the radio, I moved to the doorway, pressing the gun barrel against the door, and raising my leg to kick it down.

"One, two," I muttered under my breath, putting my foot back. "Three!" I kicked it down, and the door immediately fell. Behind the door, however, was a crossbow. I didn't learn of that until three arrows were fired, each impacting my chest. Recoiling, I fell back-first, just short of slamming my head on the pavement. Thank God for old World War Two helmets and padding.

"Crossbows!" I shouted, raising my head to look at them. "Ilyin! Hit them with a frag!"

A frag was thrown into the doorway, rolling into the cover Reunion was using. When I got up, the grenade detonated. Just before they had the chance to reload and shoot another swarm of arrows.

I ripped one of them out of my vest. Huh. They weren't able to penetrate the ballistic vest. Reexamining the arrow, there weren't any real problems with it as an arrow. It was reinforced with steel as its body and its arrowhead was a heavy steel alloy, capable of penetrating armor in normal cases. Yet, the kevlar and ballistic plate managed to take it without either of them breaking.

Chuckling, I tossed the arrows down.

The squad, meanwhile, moved in. Starting with Ilyin and Kiril moving forwards, rifles sweeping the corridor. "Area clear!" Kiril shouted. Turning around to face me, Kiril pointed at the stairs. "There's probably Reunion moving upstairs. Should we take 'em out?" He asked, taking off his magazine and examining it. Based on how he shook his head, he didn't look good.

I nodded. "Take 'em out."

"Roger. Moving up the stairway." Ilyin responded. He rushed to the stairway, turned left, and disappeared from my sight. Following him was Kiril, who took it slower and walked up the stairway.

Hearing footsteps behind me, I stepped aside and turned left, facing the right side. Following me was Dimitri, who carried the machine gun by the shoulder. He shot a dirty glance at me and shook his head.

"Didn't even get to fire the machine gun," He spoke over the radio. "Fuck you, Vlad."

"Ah," I chuckled for the first time. We were almost done with the mission, so I could afford to let the facade cracks slip. "Be sure to thank me when we get back to base."

"Ten thousand rubles says I send a pipe bomb in your bunk," Dimitri responded. "Twenty thousand rubles if I manage to take out Ilyin's Apple-IBM tablet as well."

"Thirty if your machine gun breaks." I commented.

Going silent, Dimitri followed the rest of the team. No gunfire echoed from the second floor. That was good.

"This is Team 'A'. Team 'B', what's your status?" I asked, contacting Petrov's team. The sound of gunfire was greeting me, and it sounded like they were putting a big fight. Who knew that Reunion tried to defend their sectors?

"This is Team B," Petrov responded. "We've managed to breach our sector and are clearing up the east and west. How are you guys doing?"

"Ah, there was nobody on the western side of our attack sector. We're moving into the building to secure the hostages first."

"Roger. We'll be catching up in the meantime," Petrov commented. "Oh, and by the way, was your Mortarman responsible for the explosions that shot out Reunion?"

"Yeah. Asked him to switch targets to your sector once ours was done." I commented. Petrov chuckled a little as the gunfire waned following an explosion over the radio.

"Give my thanks to him. He'll get the highest artillery unit reward from the Self-Defense Force."

"I will," I commented. "Thanks for the SITREP. Team A out."

"Team B salutes you. Out."

The radio conversation died down, and following that I marched out towards the stairs. Turning left, I came across the second floor, which was... empty. I had expected something else. But then again, gunfire didn't echo through the floor. That made sense.

When I turned a right and came across the main corridor of the second floor, I saw Dimitri setting up a machine gun facing the stairway to the third flood. Ilyin and Kiril were positioned with their rifles facing the stairs. Raising my eyebrow, I could only ask them a simple question. "Expecting somebody?" I deadpanned, rifle slung over my shoulder.

Dimitri turned his head against me. "Thought that I'd get to fire at something, heh," he sneered. "Turns out Reunion is even more cowardly than the NKVD of old. Hiding on the top floor."

"Think they've got the hostages there?" I asked, glancing up at the stairs.

"Most likely."

"Well, this is it. Do or Die, I suppose?" Kiril asked, chuckling. Ilyin followed up, sneering and covering his balaclava with his hand. Dima, meanwhile, could only let out a short laugh. Amusing. As for me? I only shook my head and smiled.

"I suppose it's all or nothing now." I commented.

"Sure is," I spoke, leaning against one of the walls. Glancing over the windows, I noticed that the gunfire at Team B's attack sector had died down. "Hold on, Team B, you all okay over there?" I asked, walking over to one of the windows to the right. The gunfire that I had heard over at their sector had died down.

The radio silence was concerning.

"Team B, do you read? Over."

Another minute of silence.

"Team B?"

The silence became deafening. The sound of rain pattering had been drowned out by our ears ringing from the fighting. And yet, Team B had not responded. I opened one of the windows to get a closer look. To my surprise, the fog had thickened and I genuinely couldn't see the ground. The only reason I know the ground was there is the sound of rain pattering on it.

"Oh fuck," I commented. Turning around, I took the magazine out of my rifle and glanced at it. "Only twenty rounds left, and as for mags..." I felt it on my ballistic vest. To my horror, there was only one magazine left. I bit my lip and felt myself cringe. But I had to push on. Even if it was going to be a pain in my ass.

"Kiril, Ilyin, Dima!" I shouted. "Team B hasn't responded to my hails!" I shouted. The three of them stared at me in horror. It was not unwarranted, given that we were just confirmed to be alone in this school building. That's not even counting the Reunion who could be in this building.

"Are you serious?" Dimitri asked, completely done with it. The flat, deadpan tone of voice he adopted just to ask this question cut deeper than armor piercing round. Instead of breaking into anger or laughing even sardonically, Dimitri shook his head and unshouldered his machine gun, holding it by the bipod. "It's just us now? Great. I've always wanted to die alone."

"What's the strategy now, boss?" Kiril quipped. "Sit here and wait to get killed, or...? Any better ideas?" He asked.

"We keep moving up," I could only respond. "It's more likely we find the hostages up top. When we find 'em, we fortify the room they're held in," I said. "Kind of like Flaubert's House*. Back in the Second World War."

"Flaubert's House was overrun by the Red Army." Ilyin deadpanned.

"Yeah, but Reunion isn't the Red Army," I responded. "They don't have Mammoths. Or Shock Troops."

"Touché."

"Alright, do we know the layout of the upper floor?" I asked.

"No. As far as we can tell, that area up there's a total unknown to us."

"Damn."

"Well, we have grenades, but..." Dima commented, before pausing. "Do we want to risk the hostages getting blown up?"

"Auuuuugh," Ilyin groaned. "Closest thing I have to non-lethals are Smokes. Which blind, sure, but only after a minute or so. Fucking hell."

"All we can do I suppose is take advantage of corners and blind-firing," I noted, shrugging. "But I don't think Dima can do that."

"Bah, I can surely do that!" Dima scoffed. "Just give me a corner, time, and a broken hand. The recoil's going to dislocate my hands one way or another, but it's better than nothing!"

"Alright then," I took a cigarette out of a pack located in a vest pouch. The bullet lighter I had - a merchandise item from my son's favorite video game - came to good use, just to smoke this once. "Any basic ideas y'all got?"

"Well, the best we can do is take advantage of the fact they're using arrows. Even if they're armor-piercing due to their construction," I knocked on a nearby wooden closet. "If we flip tables and stay behind walls, the arrows don't have a chance to penetrate. Unlike bullets, their velocity is limited, so just stick to cover and blind-fire."

"Try not to hit any of the hostages though." Kiril noted.

"Aye." Ilyin responded, shaking his head.

"So, we got a plan then?" I asked.

"Da. Let's just hope that extraction's called immediately once we seize the room they're in. Else, we're fucked." Kiril responded.

"Do you want the title of Whopper Jr. when we get back to base?" Dimitri asked. Kiril looked confused and leaned closer to ask Dimitri why he'd get the name of Whopper Jr.

"What's that a joke about?" Kiril asked. In response, Dimitri chuckled. Kiril kept his eyebrows raised before Dimitri ceased chuckling.

"Baby Killer, Burger King." Dimitri clarified, raising two fingers. In response, Kiril stopped leaning toward Dima and glared at him.

"Oh go fuck yourself, Dima," Kiril deadpanned. "That was the worst and most convoluted nickname I have seen. Even worse than Long Dick Johnson."

"Even if he had a really long dick?" Dimitri sneered. Kiril could only shake his head.

"I'm done with you."

"Alright alright, enough with the chit-chat! We have a war to win!" I spoke, pulling back the charging handle on my AK. That felt awesome. "Let's do this."

Rushing upwards, I stuck to the right-side wall as we planned to assault from the right corridor. This was assuming that they didn't have the left corner blocked off. No, there was nothing on the left. Just a dead end. Shifting right, I pointed right.

"Left corner's a dead end. Pick the right corner."

Immediately Kiril, Ilyin, and Dima all switched to hugging the right wall, them having chosen the center of the stairs first.

The whizzing of an arrow caused me to recoil back into the wall. Just a second later, an alloy arrow pierced through my helmet, knocking me down to the ground. The headache I got wasn't worth it. But, hey, that's the price I pay for fighting in the Russian Confederation. Dimitri, meanwhile, had kicked down a table nearby and crouched down behind it to keep firing. Ilyin and Kiril took cover behind pillars and blindly fired at Reunion.

"Vlad's hit! Arrow!" Kiril shouted, firing his AK without so much as looking at the enemy. Ilyin, meanwhile, poked out of cover and took aimed shots. The costs of this maneuver consisted of an arrow to the arm and one that hit his helmet dead-center. But he was still kicking, just with a terrible headache and a singular arrow lodged in his head.

"Goddamnit! I should've picked a grenade launcher!" Ilyin commented, continuing to aim and shoot. I couldn't see because I was knocked down, but in between some shots, he shouted "Kill confirmed!" while firing his AK. I suppose that he managed to get some people.

"They're guarding the damn place with everything in their arsenal! Do they not want us to cross to their goddamn hostages?!" Dimitri shouted, couching under the table he used as cover. He was firing his machine gun with one hand as he crouched down and pivoted the machine gun around in sweeping fire.

"Yeah! They're trying to damn make sure that we die along with them!" Ilyin shouted. "Let's give them hell!"

I pushed myself up and hid behind a pillar, AK-64M still in my hands. Leaning right and turning to look at them, I pointed at the firing line of Reunion that I could finally see. To my dismay, it was a fortified corridor that led to a door behind it. And the fortified corridor was comprised of a trash-and-table-made fortification and a line of Crossbowmen. Swordsmen were climbing out of the walls to charge, but they were cut down fairly quickly. Squinting, I could count at least thirty men defending that line. Thirty too many.

After shooting at them several times, I felt like this was going to be impossible without some better ordnance. Luckily for us, we still had frag grenades.

"Hit 'em with frags!" I shouted, switching to the grenade launcher on my AK-64 and firing it. The blast sent several Reunion soldiers flying forwards, some slumping dead on the wall they relied on. Ilyin and Kiril brought out their frag grenades and threw them. Ilyin's grenade bounced off the wall but blew up a Reunion swordsman. Kiril's grenade, meanwhile, bounced off the wall behind the fort and landed in the middle of the "sandbag" equivalents that were the dumpsters.

Once they were dealt with, I motioned towards the door behind the fort. "Keep moving."

Dimitri got up and lugged his machine gun like he was a GDI Officer, holding it by the bipod as he walked slowly forward. In contrast, Ilyin and Kiril slipped out of their cover and approached the fortifications, then vaulted over and took position near the door. I stood at the center of the doorway, having pointed my gun at it. I take out a grenade from the grenade launcher and load it. But something doesn't feel right. My vest suddenly weighs a lot less.

Rifling through the grenade launcher pockets on my vest, I realized that the grenade I loaded was practically my last grenade. Shit. Biting my lower lip and cringing was the only responsible thing I could do. Hoping not to be disappointed, I flipped the rifle over and pulled the charging handle to get a better look at how many bullets I had left on my AK.

I had one round left on this magazine, and my last magazine still had thirty. Quickly I released the magazine and replaced it with the new one. I was down to my last magazines. This was going to be bad.

"Hey, sir," Dimitri asked, standing near Kiril to the right, machine gun at the ready. "You down to your last magazine?"

"Yes. Both my last grenade and my last magazine."

"Well shit," Dimitri muttered. "I'm down to two more machine gun box magazines. Kiril, how about you?" In the latter part, he tapped Kiril's shoulder. In response, Kiril rifled through his vest, then pulled the charging handle back on his gun. Looking back at Dimitri, he shook his head.

"Two magazines left. Twenty left on the mag I have."

"Ilyin?" Dimitri asked.

"Three magazines- Make that two," He said, reloading his rifle. "Had to replace an empty mag. Only had the bullet left in the chamber."

"Great, so are we all running on fumes?" Dimitri snidely remarked. Sadly, Ilyin nodded. While Kiril could only sigh.

"Yes."

"Awesome." He continued. "We are so dead."

I banged on the door. "Enough chit-chat," I remarked, glaring at the rest of the team. "This next assault is going to be a pain in my rear. Hopefully, this will be our last," I pulled out an MP-443 Grach and slung my rifle around my chest. "When I kick this door down, I want you all to throw frag grenades into the door, and find cover."

"Roger that, sir." Ilyin responded. Kiril and Dimitri nodded, the latter giving a thumbs-up too. Guess that meant it was time.

"Let's go to work," I raised my leg, just inches away from kicking the door down. "Alright. Kicking the door down," I breathed in. "In... one..." I muttered, breathing in and out as I closed my eyes while still raising my leg. "Two..." I continued, raising the leg further back, to apply more force and velocity behind it. "Aaaaandd..." I opened my eyes and rammed my boot down on the doorknob.

"Three!"

The door swings open as the lock collapsed, folding into a useless hunk of metal. After the swinging, I fired my pistol at the Reunion soldiers gathered in this room's indoor fortification.

This one was made out of school tables, and the teacher's desk presumably. Looked more formidable, and organized. The last one looked like a cobbled pile of scrap metal. I could see at least fifty or so soldiers, and that's giving my best estimate with these numbers. A few were shot dead by my pistol, but some dodged. And I didn't have enough bullets to hit everyone.

Nor time.

Immediately, arrows yet again started hitting me in the chest. This time, the pressure they put on my vest cracked through the kevlar and ballistic plates I had. They say that if you shoot at something with two .22 LR cartridges, it doesn't break, but if you shoot with fifty, it cracks first due to the sheer volume of fire. That is exactly what I felt as the stinging pain of an open flesh wound revealed itself.

But as I fell, Ilyin and Kiril tossed frag grenades into the doorway. I couldn't see, but I could hear them moving in and opening fire on Reunion inside the doorway. Dimitri's machine gun and the game addict duo's AKs formed a staccato that was loud enough to deafen the other noises coming from the room. I didn't want to sit this one out.

I pushed myself up to the best of my ability, and when I got up I dove for cover near an overturned table. Pistol in hand, I blindly fired at Reunion's direction. Arrows barely managed to hit me.

"Get some! Die motherfucker die!" Dimitri shouted, firing his machine gun in bursts. The syllables between what he shouted were timed with the machine gun bursts. I guess he learned that from the American military when we were in joint military exercises. "DIE!" He shouted as loud as possible, increasing the duration of the machine gun bursts. I turned to glance at the rest of the team, and to my surprise, they were still using their pistols rather than switching to their pistols.

Ilyin especially, as he often stood up to continue his skill of well-aimed shots at Reunion. Better for his ammunition, but Kiril wanted safety and focused more on blind-firing. He looked more like a guerrilla than a trained soldier. But we didn't have the precious CornerShot that some special operations forces within the Global Defense Initiative used.

If anything, I don't blame him. He's trying his best, even as a gambling addict.

Though I envy Anatoly, especially since he has a mortar-launched camera drone that gives him total eyesight of the battlefield. Complete with thermal vision and night vision modes. Oh, and compatibility with strobes.

Too bad he's not with us and is missing alongside Team B.

Or we're in purgatory.

"Look out!" Ilyin shouted, ducking as an energy ball whizzed past him. He grasped his helmet, grateful that his head wasn't torn off its shoulders. "THEY'VE GOT WIZARDS!"

"Oh, come on!" Dimitri shouted, crouching down and firing the machine gun only with one hand. "What's next? Are they going to bring in a fucking riot trooper?!"

"DON'T JINX US!" Kiril yelled, rifle still firing away. "YOU'LL SUMMON ONE!"

While they were shouting, I fired my pistol over the table with one hand. I couldn't aim for shit, but I just hoped that I had hit somebody. The moment my pistol clicked dry I immediately reloaded it, continuing to fire over the table. In a moment, an arrow whizzes by my arm, grazing the hand that I used for shooting. At that point, I felt an adrenaline rush, and a feeling best described as 'Blind Firing isn't enough, I want that motherfucker dead'.

So I stood up from cover to open fire, both arms clutched on the pistol's grip. In several clicks, I had shot and killed at least three Reunion soldiers. Not pinpoint headshots, but close enough.

Immediately, I felt a part of my adrenaline spike up, apparently in panic. I swept my area and didn't see anything out of notice there. So, I turned around to look at the enemy lines. The door behind the enemy fortification was hit and began to crack visibly. That's probably what got my danger senses spiked up. I crouched down, waiting for the door to fully break down.

Once it fully broke down, I got a full view of who came out of it. To my shock, it was a Reunion soldier. But in heavy, bulky armor that bore some resemblance to American MP Riot Control. But rather than a shield and shotgun, it was a sword and shield. On the shield, I could make out a faint 'URSUS IMPERIAL CONSTABULARY'. And the uniforms seemed to be that of the Constabulary. But whether or not it was actual physical armor or Bomb Squad gear was yet to be determined.

Regardless, we still had a problem. And it was a big one.

"RIOT TROOPER!" Kiril shouted. "FOCUS FIRE ON THAT RIOT TROOPER!"

"You heard him!" I responded, pulling the slide on my pistol. "Focus fire on that Riot Trooper! Take him out before he gets too close!"

"Roger that, sir!" Ilyin shouted. Dimitri, meanwhile, switched targets. The machine gun bursts ended and in its place was a long, sustained full-auto spray. While they were focusing fire, I slipped out of cover and took cover at a table further forward, crouching down. Peeking out of the corner, I saw Reunion troops attempting to take advantage of our focus fire to get close.

One Reunion soldier boldly rushed towards their line, trying to get a stab at them. Unfortunately, he was in my area, so all it took was an outstretched leg and he fell to the floor, skull cracking as he smashed directly into concrete. Another one tried to follow him, but rather than tripping him, I stood up as fast as I could and threw a punch into his mask.

He fell on his back, and immediately I pounced on him, pointing my gun through his eyeslits. Before he could try anything, a shot echoed and a bullet entered his skull, immediately killing them. I went back into cover and hid as arrows flew by. Muttering, I told myself that I 'got the fuckers' twice.

I stand up from cover, intending to-

My thoughts were interrupted as an arrow directly pierced my right eye. My aiming eye. I ripped it out immediately and felt darkness overtake one part of my vision. I threw the arrow down.

I had no fucking eyesight in one eye anymore.

"Fuck! Eye's hit!" I shouted. I covered my bleeding eye with my right hand and used the left one to engage with my AK.

"Riot Trooper's incoming!" Kiril shouted. "Get outta there!"

While they were focusing fire and trying to get the Riot Trooper, I was tending to my eye wound, checking for blood. When I touched where my right eye would have been with my right hand, I could only feel red, warm liquid. And when I looked at it from my left eye, my glove was completely covered in blood.

While staring at my glove which was completely covered in blood, I heard heavy footsteps to my right. Turning around, I saw through my remaining eye that the Riot Trooper was close to me. And I could see that they were covered head-to-toe in scavenged armor. I even saw what looked to be a ballistic plate. But the fact was; he had waltzed up to me and was ready to kill me.

I began running out of cover as fast as I could, jumping up to sprint. But, I didn't account for my collateral damage and tripped on one of the Reunion corpses. Slamming face-first into the ground, I felt a splitting headache. But I couldn't afford to give up, so as soon as I could see the ground that wasn't concrete, I crawled away slowly. Inching back towards cover.

While doing that, I heard heavy footsteps following me. But I couldn't stop. Not now. Keep moving, I told myself.

But a sword slash near my feet alarmed me. I could only hear it, but based on how it was very close to my feet - I needed to keep an eye on the Riot Trooper! Turning around, I felt genuine terror as I came face-to-face with the Reunion 'Riot Trooper' stopping right in front of me. He raised his sword, fully intending on hacking me to bits. And I could only raise my pistol-holding arm in vain defense.

My eyes widened though, as I heard the crack of a Desert Eagle. And almost immediately, the Riot Trooper stumbled back. The shots continued, over and over. Eventually, the glass on the helmet of the 'Riot Trooper' broke, and blood splattered on what remained of it as the final Desert Eagle shot was fired.

They collapsed, back-first, the weight of their armor giving a little 'boom'.

I could only stare at their collapsed body for a while before I was dragged into cover by the shoulder. I raised my pistol facing Reunion, and fired off a few shots, hoping to take one down. My pistol clicked empty not too soon, and I eventually found myself in cover.

And staring right at me was Agent Shrub, reloading his pistol. Behind him was Stan the Diplomat, who was still carrying the prisoner. He got into cover and was attending to the prisoner. Shrub, meanwhile, shot at Reunion from cover with his pistol.

"Missed me?" Shrub asked snidely, putting on a smarmy grin. In response, I laughed a little and smiled. "Sorry, I was busy clearing other parts of the first floor. Couldn't follow you into the first part of the assault."

"So that's where you were?" I asked. "Busy clearing out the first floor?"

"Yea."

"Well, did you manage to find Team B anywhere?" I asked.

"No," Shrub said. "But I heard something about 'Masking Arts' or something. If anything, they might be using magic to mask Team B so we don't get any reinforcements."

"Right," I noted. Hopefully, Team B was still alive. "Say, that reminds me - how'd you understand them? Thought you only talked in Spanish and English?"

"One of their people spoke in English, well," He ducked as an arrow whizzed by and shot back. Still answering the question while doing so. "After I pointed a gun at his heart and promised to rip off his testicles."

"Did you go through with it?" I asked.

"No. Just shot him in the heart," He responded. He glanced at me, before going back to shooting. "How'd you lose your eye?"

"Arrow. I got out of cover and got shot in the eye."

"Jeez. That sucks."

"That is an understatement, Agent Shrub."

"You tell me."

The shots later stopped, and even Shrub stopped shooting. Peeking out of cover, I was surprised to find their entire fortification line emptied. Dead bodies littered the fort, some slumped over furniture, some lying against the wall, and some dead on the floor.

"All clear." Shrub said.

"I hope to god that this is the last goddamn room we have to clear out. Or else I'm going to fucking scream." Stan muttered, carrying the prisoner.

"Don't worry," Shrub said. "With how there's nothing past the door, it's safe to say that there's nothing behind there."

"Right, right." Stan murmured.

Dragging myself up, I went ahead of Agent Shrub and Stan. I was the squad leader, I had to check first.

"Ilyin, Kiril, Dima," I said. "Follow me."

"Will do, sir."

When I approached the busted-down door and entered beyond it, I had expected, say, at least one Reunion soldier to stay and ambush us. But surprisingly, there was nobody there.

"All clear."

"Clear here."

"Nothing here."

The voices of Dimitri, Ilyin, and Kiril echoed as they swept the corridor. In said corridor, there were two pathways. One that led left and one that led to the right. I didn't want anything to surprise us, so I pointed toward the left side corridor.

"Dima, Kiril. Check out that door," I motioned left side, then pointed my thumb back towards the right side. "Ilyin and I will check out the right side corridor. Got it?"

"Mhm. Understood, sir." Kiril said. "Heading there now."

He walked towards the left corridor, while I opted to head right. With a blinded eye, a low-ammo rifle, and a splitting headache, I wasn't having the greatest time. Oh, and I had a slight limp. Isn't fighting while crippled fun?

Facing the door, I crouched down to examine the lock, if it had one. Turning the doorknob a few times, I found that it was unlocked. I knocked on the door. I was just hoping that I found the door that wasn't filled with Reunion soldiers ready to ambush me.

"Hello! Anyone there?!" I asked. "I'm Captain Vladimir Borisov! Russian Self-Defense Force! We're here to rescue you!" Silence answered me, as nobody spoke. Knocking on the door a second time, I waited for an answer. When nothing replied to me, I decided it was time. I began turning the door open by its knob, pistol raised in case of emergency.

"I'm coming in now! Don't shoot!" I shouted, fully opening the door. Rather than an ambush squad, I was surprised to find that it was the hostages who greeted me instead. There were hostages reported, but we didn't know if it was just a bunch of people herded in or children. I always thought it was the former, but... my eyes tell me that it's the latter instead.

"Agent Shrub!" I shouted in English. "I found the hostages!"

Rushing down the corridor as soon as I said that was the duo of Agent Shrub and Stan the Diplomat. I stepped aside - and so did Ilyin - to make way for them. When Shrub entered the room, he had his pistol raised in case of emergency. But as soon as he saw the kids, he holstered his pistol and crouched down to look at one of them.

Following him, I sat down to look at the hostages in close view as well.

They looked... disheveled, to say the least. Many of them had soot covering their faces and seemed like they had not showered in a long time. The smell of the air was repugnant. But seeing as they had no opportunity to shower at all, it made sense. And... looking at them even more as well, it seemed like they were on the verge of starving. Some of them looked extremely thin, almost malnourished.

I looked at one of the kids and took one of them by the hand. They were safe now. Looking at their condition, I had to ask the question of if they were okay or not.

"Are you okay?" In Russian, I asked. Hopefully, they understood me.

I had to know.

The child looked like they had just gone through hell. Looking close, in fact, it was a young girl. Almost as young as one of my nieces. She looked as if she was nearly approaching high school. She had brown hair, a red streak flowing through it. She looked as though she'd be a leader and a good one... but not here. Not in this necropolis. The little bear's ears on her head reminded me that I was dealing with... different people. But the matter is that they... suffered. I could see it in her eyes.

Her response was to shake their head, sobbing as she did so. I looked around and realized that it indeed was only children. I had thought that there would be at least adult hostages, like the teacher, or some parents. But no. It was all kids.

Glancing back at the young girl, I swallowed and asked them a... rather simple question.

"Do you have any parents? Guardians? Or..." I stopped. "...Are you all alone?"

She immediately shook her head and stopped sobbing. Looking at me with pained eyes instead. And out of her mouth came a simple word, that told me all I needed to know.

"...Alone." She said, in Russian.

I let go of her hand and stood up, taking my radio. Glancing back at them, I smiled. Just a little. "Don't worry. You're safe now." I said.

I glanced back to the ISA Agent and nudged him. When he turned around, I spoke. "Shrub," I asked. "Has the communication downtime ended?"

"Ah, yeah," Shrub said. "It has." He said, pulling out an Apple-IBM minitablet.

It was connected to the global satellite network, and it often had displays that informed the user on whether or not it was connected. Normally it would have been useful, but due to the communications downtime, it was practically useless.

Tapping it a little, he nodded and flipped it around. Up top was a green bar, with the words 'UNITED NATIONS SATTELITE CONNECTED' on it. That was good.

"Good, because I have to call in extraction." I said, showing him my radio. He nodded.

"And Team B?" He asked, glancing near a window.

"We'll wait for them at the extraction zone."

"Alright."

Immediately, I walked out of the room and turned on the radio. "This is Aurora-10, located in Chernobog. Requesting immediate extraction of hostages. I repeat, this is Aurora-10, located in Chernobog. I am requesting immediate extraction of hostages. If you read this, Nyebo, answer 'Irene', over."

"This is Nyebo, Irene. I repeat, Irene. Have you cleared out the landing zone? Over." The radio responded. I was thankful, but I couldn't display that right now.

"Yes, Nyebo. The landing zone is cleared out. All enemy forces have been cleared out of the area, over."

"Roger. Anything else to add? Over."

"I'm seeing... up to fifty or so hostages. All of 'em children. Could you ask for a Chinook to come with you? Hinds can't carry them all by themselves. Over."

"Ah, yeah. We're going to request additional helicopter support. We'll also be bringing infantry reinforcements."

"One more thing while I'm at it," I glanced back. "Call in State Scarlet for me. We're going to fortify this damn school and turn it into a refugee zone."

"Copy that, Aurora-10. Sit tight. ETA is twenty minutes. Nyebo out."

"Good luck, out."

At that moment, I found a chair to sit down on. It wasn't upturned, and I could safely relax on it. Leaning back, I touched where my eye used to be, fiddling around with my bloodied gloves. It was disgusting, but knowing that I would lose an eye like this just felt harrowing. Like a debt, that you didn't know was eventually going to be paid.

Guess I better make use of my time. Well, what remaining time I have left.

I heard footsteps near the stairway I arrived from, and turned around. To my not-surprise, it was Team B. I could see that in their battle scars. And Petrov's fresh face, covered in blood, soot, and dirt. I could only chuckle at him, and stood up from my seat, walking to Petrov. Extending my hand to him, Petrov took it and we shook, mutual respect in our strength.

"Miss me?" Petrov asked snidely. I nodded my head and smiled under my balaclava.

"On the contrary, I was hoping you'd be delayed for a few minutes." I noted.

"Well, we're here," He glanced back at Team B. I could see Anatoly among them. Guess he made it out too. "And we're back. Not even Fog magic could stop our advance."

"Radical." I noted.

"We're so back," One of the soldiers commented, leaning against one of the walls and sitting down. "But my back hurts. I'm gonna nap."

"Righto." I said, turning back to one of the chairs, and sitting down. There, I had to rethink my life.

Maybe, without one eye, I'd be able to live normally. Or, maybe I'd just fall in battle like the rest of my predecessor family.

I took off my gloves and looked at the stains of blood on them. We had no medic, which meant I had to bleed a little. And, unfortunately for us, we can't plug our eyes back in and cauterize the wound or wait for the flesh to attach itself back. We could try that with our gray matter but for things like eyes? Well, no. As much as I wish it worked like that for every other body part.

I needed a drink.

Of course, that assumes that I'd be alive by the time I could get a drink.

Bah, to hell with this. I'm going to live my life to my fullest and try dying a hero.

Even if it means I may never get to see my family again.

---

Seven Minutes Later

---

Captain Vladimir Borisov [Russian Confederation - RGSDF VDV] - Peterheim Middle School - Dated December, 1096

"Alright, ladies," I addressed the now-reunified Teams A and B. "We have thirteen minutes until Nyebo makes it to this school. Once Nyebo arrives, it will clear out the battlefield of Reunion and bring in reinforcements. Once reinforcements arrive, we can turn this here school into a refugee extraction zone. We will be reinforcing it with other units from the contingent."

"Nod and IDAP or Globotech's mercs too?" Ilyin asked, raising his hand. Staring at his hand, I nodded.

"Yes. We'll petition the Nod and IDAP commanders for extra squads. We'll rotate out squads once we get this whole thing set up."

"Carry on." Ilyin noted.

Coughing, I tapped the whiteboard where I wrote the plans and briefing. Hastily scribbled, but nobody ever said I was the greatest at drawing.

It featured a four-square window, with the Objective, Plan, Execution, and Additional Notes. On the upper left, the Objective was written in Russian. "Objective: Hold the Landing Zone for Nyebo and ensure that Reunion does not get a foothold on the LZ."

Moving over to the Plan window, I wrote down more parts of the plan. "Plan;" I stated, drawing the school and a bunch of arrows surrounding it. On the school, I wrote 'SCHOOL', then wrote 'ASSAULT' on the arrows.

"The Reunion assault is guaranteed to come from all directions. We have positioned tanks to guard the doors of the school, and have fortified it." I drew a half-circle on the east and west of the school, representing the tank units.

"Teams A and B will defend the North and South. Agent Shrub will be performing sabotage operations and Stan will be guarding the Prisoner and the Hostages."

I moved to the Execution notes. "Teams A and B will be defending the north and south, Agat will split and guard the east and west, and Anatoly will be providing artillery support from the rooftop. If pushed back, we retreat further inside the school and fortify the room of the hostages to the best of our ability." While talking, I drew down the composition of the teams. Anatoly was a separate asset, getting 'Artillery' on his section. Since he was the only artilleryman we had.

"We have no idea what will be assaulting us, so be ready for anything."

Team A and B were in separate sections, both divided into 'NORTH GUARD' and 'SOUTH GUARD'. Both Teams A and B had four men each. Team A had me, Kiril, Ilyin, and Dimitri. Team B had Major Petrov and three other soldiers.

And Agat was divided into four tanks, with twelve crewmen in them.

"Additional notes;" I said. "Reunion enemy types are the following;" I wrote down 'DRONE' and combined it with a poor drawing of the drone, followed by 'ATTACK DOG' and a cute-ish representation of the dog. Following that was 'CROSSBOW' which was represented by an arrow, and 'SWORDSMAN' which was represented by a simple sword. Whether or not they had Artillery, Riot Control, or such was a question for later. But these were the basics.

"Alright. Let's get into position," I said, grabbing my rifle from a nearby desk. "Team A. Hold the north sector. Team B. Hold the south sector." I ordered. Immediately the teams scrambled to their objective positions. Myself included.

Once I had gotten to the north sector, I pushed tables up and piled them with chairs to cover the side entrances to the hallway, leaving only the rear entrance open. Said rear entrance connected to Team B's sector, so that meant both of us could reinforce each other. Once the tables and chairs had been piled to form a barricade, I smashed the windows open with my rifle stock.

The rest of the unit followed, smashing their rifle stocks into the windows to open up firing ports.

"Team B, in position!" The radio informed. "Team A, status?"

"Team A is in position," I continued. "Agat, status?"

"Agat A is in position by the east," Agat-11 commented. "We're entrenched. Over."

"Agat B is in position by the west," Agat-03 Commented. "Doorway is fortified. Trench and barricades have been set up."

"Defenses are in position," I reported. "Petrov, anything in your area?" I asked.

"Nyet. Anything on yours, Vladimir?" Petrov answered. I poked out of the firing port and saw nothing moving in the fog. Not even any noises that seemed to suggest that Reunion was going to assault them yet.

"Ah, no. Nothing is heading from our sector."

"Roger. Agat, I assume that it's the same for both teams?"

"Agat A can confirm." Agat A responded. Following him was Agat B, who answered with: "Agat B. Ditto."

"Right. Sit tight until extraction arrives. Out."

"Priyom."

Sitting down and leaning on the wall, I could only stare at the rifle in my hands and wonder if I just had bad luck. With one eye missing, I was supposed to be combat ineffective. Yet due to our situation, I had no choice but to keep fighting. Even if my missing eye was starting to itch, and I was starting to have phantom sensations about blinking.

I miss my right eye.

"Hey, Vlad," Ilyin asked, peeking over the wall with his AK. "You mentioned something about family, right? Back on the helicopter?"

"Yeah. I have nieces. Back home. Illustrated some regionally popular books with them. Why do you ask?"

"Why'd you join the Self-Defense Force?" Ilyin turned to look at him. "I genuinely thought a guy like you would have a stable income. Like, you're a kid's illustrator! In Russia! The state with Konfedmultfilm!* Why'd you not choose to work for, like, the Disney-Konfedmultfilm collaboration or something?"

"I wanted to defend my nation, this time more because it dedicated time to cleaning its act," I stated. "My father was in the Red Army, and he despised working under Stalin. Yet when Stalin died and the Smuta hit, he joined Zhukov because it was better than Beria's NKVD. Or in fact, he joined just because he would have rather died than see the NKVD take over the nation."

I stopped to pull the magazine out of my rifle. "And before him, my grandfather wanted to defend his nation. But he fought for the Tsar, then switched to fighting for the Mensheviks in the Civil War, before they were all purged. After them? Me. It was a hereditary tradition in my lineage. To defend our nation, in the name of peace and security. My son's the next in line But, like my father who wasn't there to see me join the SDF, I'll never see my son... I can only hope he knows what waits for him in the SDF."

"Well... I didn't expect that." Ilyin answered, looking back through the firing port and the window. "You miss living in the Confederation compared to Chernobog? How's the two when compared to each other?" He added. "To me, this place kind of looks like the era of Volkov was combined with Tsarist Russia. Modern technology combined with older, regressive politics."

Glancing around the school, I was inclined to agree. This area had a modern interior design. With cold grey being combined with steel and metal materials, and a tacky modernist aesthetic. Yet, based on the signs around me and the posters, it seemed I had traveled back to Tsarist Russia politically. I'd scoff at it, but the horror inside me dwelled.

This version of Tsarist Russia had access to modern technology. Who knew what kind of despotic state it had descended into? British President Eric Blair once wrote a book about a pervasive hyper-nationalist surveillance oligarchy that echoed Stalin's Russia. Now? This version of Tsarist Russia echoes said book. Except replace the upper party with the Nobles, and you have this... 'Russia'.

Or Ursus, as it was called.

"Well, I say that while it may look much more clean and shiny than St. Petersburg," I commented, scoffing the moment I mentioned the provisional capital of the Confederation. "Politically I feel like it might just be another oppressive Tsarist-era city. For comparison;" I raised one finger.

"Confederation cities are rougher around the edges. They feel desaturated. But at night, they glow like cities in the Republic of Korea. There was a term for the cities at night I believe, 'cyber-punk' it was called. Futuristic but soulless. Discount the fact that the Confederation is a stable and democratic republic though, as cyber-punk focused more on authoritarian corporate states. Again, like Korea."

Raising a second finger, I continued.

"Chernobog? Well, it looks like a cheery bright city, without this whole thing. But underneath it is its dirty laundry. The, well, regressions of Tsarism at work. The Reunion Uprising, I say, would not have happened if the government bothered to care for its people. Yet, its petty Tsarism is what ruins this city. I'd say that Chernobog is if the ROK was Joseon instead of a corporatocratic republic."

"Hmph. I guess you can say that this is just the Russian ROK, but Tsarist?" Kiril interjected.

"Sort of," Ilyin noted. "Looks like the Confederation wins in terms of livability. Aesthetically it sucks, but it's still a democratic and stable republic. Ursus, based on what I've seen?" Ilyin chuckled morbidly as his thumb pointed at the school. "Is just Tsarist Russia if it survived up until 1918."

"And with Second World War technology too?" Kiril smarmily replied.

"And with Second World War technology. Bar the guns. They seem to lack guns. At all."

"Huh. I'm surprised."

"Don't be," I answered. "Tsarist commanders had their thumbs in their ass. They'd refuse a gun being issued to their units if it meant that they'd ascend into higher nobility."

"Fair enough."

The conversation died down as silence began to fill the air. The pattering of the rain began to slow down, yet the thunderstorms just didn't seem to stop. It felt agonizing, waiting for a Reunion attack while we were already worn down from several ambushes. Kiril, Ilyin, and Dima didn't show any injuries. Tolya seemed to be fine. Yet, I lost an eye and came out of the last clearing out with a concussion.

This was hell.

"Team A, this is Team B. Do you see anything in the fog?" Major Petrov asked on the radio. Peeking out and seeing nothing, I responded.

"This is Team A, we see nothing. Over."

"Copy that Team A. Agat. Do any of your teams see anything?"

"Agat A here, we don't see anything in the fog. Other than the rain, not much, over."

"Roger. Agat B?"

"Agat B here. Nothing here. It's just damp and empty."

"Could be Reunion fogging Arts. Retaliate when hit with arrows from Fog, over."

"Will do. Anatoly?"

"Launching SPARCS," Anatoly responded."Should get a bird's eye view of what's behind the fog."

"Do you see anything?" Petrov asked.

"Hold on, validating the camera feed..." Tolya responded. "It seems like my camera feed's glitching, hold on. It's displaying thermal signatures where there aren't any." He responded. While he was doing so, I stood up and picked up my binoculars, and peeked through the fog. There... didn't appear to be any movements in the fog. So hopefully they-

A dark figure moved in the corner of my remaining eye, and I moved my binoculars left to see through it. There was nothing when I moved to it. Bringing up the radio, I contacted Agent Shrub, who decided to hide in a building to the north section.

"Agent Shrub, do you copy? Over."

"This is Shrub," He responded. "I do copy. What's up, over?"

"Could you check if there are any spotters in the area? And confirm if there are any infantry movements around the area. Over." I shifted my binoculars around, still trying to find any sign of movement. The fact that nothing came up on the binoculars was irritating.

At least I had Agent Shrub to ensure that there was nothing to escape our eyes.

"Ah, wait one," Shrub replied. "Checking right now."

"Copy that. Report back when you're concluded. Over."

"M-hm. Will do. Over."

I looked through the binoculars again. Through the fog, I could make out the broken and destroyed buildings of Chernobog. The ruins of a once bright city. But then again, considering its brightness was hiding the fact that it was little more than Tsarist Russia if it had more modern technology.

But, while mulling over the tragedy of two periods of Russia meeting each other in a meeting that never should have taken place, I noticed that part of the fog had gotten thicker. That couldn't have been right.

"Ilyin," I motioned. "Set up your Prism Cannon. Take one of the tables and use it as a platform."

"Roger. Setting up Prism Gun." He replied, taking a nearby school table and setting it up near the firing port, before unshouldering his Prism Cannon. Looking at it, it reminded him more of a Tesla weapon than a real Prism weapon. If you asked me, the Prism Cannon was a shadow of what it originally once was during the Second World War. From mighty towers that stopped Soviet armor in Berlin, they have been reduced to second-rate Anti-Tank Weapons. Offer less penetration owing to the new reflective armor on newer tanks, but compensate for it with lower costs, and being able to shoot at infantry.

I never really thought of what it would be like to face the Prism Cannons. After all, they are a relic of the Second World War, so it was unlikely I'd encounter them given that Nod opts to supply more modern weapons to its compatriots first rather than delivering mere surplus. I've faced more LAWs while I served in the Donbas fighting against the Ukrainian Red Army.

Makes me sad knowing that we're using Prism Cannons for infantry AT and AA rather than adapting to the LAW. But that was up to the SDF command. After all, we are a half-Allied, half-Soviet army.

Two eras of old fused into one.

I looked back at the fog and spoke again.

"Agent Shrub? Did you see anything? Over." I radioed. To my alarm, Shrub had not responded. With the thickening of the fog, this was no coincidence. Turning to Ilyin, I nudged him in the shoulder, then pointed at the fog.

"Prepare to use the Prism Cannon. We're going to be facing a Reunion attack." I said. Ilyin looked at me with an intrigued expression.

"How'd you know?"

Pointing at the thickened fog, I pulled my binoculars back up and replied. "Fog's thickening. The weather's not supposed to be this thick. Even if it's humid."

"Roger. Preparing the Prism Cannon now."

Going back to watching the fog through the binoculars, I tried to sweep every corner of the North for movement. No silhouettes appeared, and no clearing occurred. The fog was here to stay, much to my annoyance.

Putting my binoculars down, I squinted some more at the fog. Maybe it was just the weather after all?

No, that's too-

At that moment, a ball of energy zoomed past my helmet, barely missing it by an inch. Somehow it was too fast for me to react to, but it was off-target enough to give me nothing more than a shock.

Following that was another barrage of energy projectiles - this time much faster than the last. Immediately, they impacted the wall. Not hitting anything but the cold concrete.

Hurriedly zooming in through the binoculars before they could retaliate a second time, I saw a part of the fog clear out, showing a small line of Wizards, preparing another attack. These were dressed in black, with red streaks on them.

"WIZARDS!" I shouted, throwing my binoculars down and grabbing my AK-64M. Firing my rifle, I pointed at the clearing fog. "FOCUS FIRE ON THE WIZARDS!" I returned to firing.

"Firing!" Ilyin shouted, firing the Prism Cannon. When the Prism Cannon fired, the beam of light from the cannon immediately hit one of the Wizards. In a second, them and their fellow Wizards - all standing together in a line without spacing - immediately burned to a crisp. Their organized line was instantly destroyed by everyone evaporating before they could even feel pain, the heat of the Prism beams dispersing to devastating effect.

A second shot was fired, this time against a group of Reunion infantry who were trying to form a Phalanx movement. Immediately the beam hit the shields at the center, melting through the shields. Once they penetrated the shields, the infantry behind them burned to a crisp. The only remaining thing was their ashes, their formation turned into a display of ash and heat.

"Microfusion cell's out!" Ilyin shouted, unloading the recoilless rifle by pulling out the back handle to its battery section. "Reloading!"

"Roger!" I shouted, turning back. "DIMA! Machine gun! Now!"

"On it!" Dimitri shouted, smashing a window with his machine gun stock. Putting the Machine Gun on its stationary mode, he fired a long burst against Reunion. The sound and crackles of machine gun fire and rifle fire drowned out the rain, with the fog finally lifting. And behind them was an Army of Reunion. Well, my best estimates could put in around...

Wait. I'll need to confide with Command on that one.

Crouching down, I picked up the radio.

"Command! Do you read?! We're under attack by Reunion! I repeat we're under attack by Reunion! Over!" I said, immediately moving to blindly fire my AK one-handed, with the recoil kicking like a fucking mule.

"This is Command. We read you." The voice of the Brigadier-General responded, ice-cold as ever. "What do you need, over?"

"Sat scan!*" I shouted. "Give me a Sat scan and an estimate of how many enemy forces there are! I need those immediately!"

"Copy that. Relaying request for satellite scan," the Brigadier-General replied coolly. "Anything else?" The Brigadier-General asked a few seconds later, the sound of Officers calling for Satellite scans echoing as he spoke.

"Get me the 2nd Aviation Bomber regiment!"

"Copy. Reinforcements on the way." He responded. "Do you also want a status update on Nyebo?"

"Yes, hell yes!" I shouted, continuing to crouch behind the wall as Ilyin fired his Prism Cannon repeatedly. "I need their location now!"

"They're on their way, ETA nine minutes. Rapidly approaching."

"Tell them we're going to need them to step it up! Aurora, out!" I turned off the radio, returning to firing the Kalashnikov.

Immediately, Command radioed back. The voice of the Brigadier-General spoke as he returned the sat scan. "Satellite scan shows approximately a company's worth of Reunion heading towards you. I repeat, a company's worth. Reinforcements are on their way. 2nd Bomber Regiment, ETA three minutes. Command out."

Fucking-

A company's worth?! This was fucking hopeless! But oh to hell with it!

I nodded. "Thanks, Command..." I muttered into the radio, returning to firing my AK. But to my surprise, not a minute later - somebody tried to speak through the radio. First, it was static, so I didn't expect much. The second time it was barely audible. Still, better than no-

"THIS-" I heard from the radio, only to be interrupted by static literally a second later. "THIS IS AGENT SHRUB!" He shouted, a breath of relief coming back to me as I find that our reliable ISA man wasn't dead. Fuckin' A, ISA! To think that I was going to call the ISA man's status check a radio error.

"Where the hell were you?!"

"Spotted enemy movement before the fog cleared! Was going to relay back to you, but my radio didn't fucking work! Thought y'all were dead!" He shouted. "I'm currently stuck behind a wall! I don't think they see me!"

"Right! Do you see their field commander anywhere?!"

"No, but I see some more reinforcements!" He shouted. "Hey, wait! I got an idea!"

"Yeah?!"

"Keep 'em distracted! I can shoot them while they're focused on you!"

"Where the hell are you anyway?!" I asked, moving my Binoculars everywhere. I was able to spot Shrub though when I moved over to an office building and saw him waving at me. "Scratch that. I see you. Alright, covering now, out," I shut off the radio, then nudged at Ilyin and Dima. "Keep firing! Shrub's going to sabotage their rear lines!"

"Roger that!" Ilyin replied, loading the last Microfusion Cell into the rear of the Prism Cannon. "Firing cannon!"

"Keeping 'em down, boss!" Dimitri replied. "Ura!"

I followed suit, using my AK to fire back at them. But I noticed that Kiril wasn't firing, so I glanced to see what was going on. Though, funny enough, rather than seeing him out of action or refusing to fight, he appeared to be attaching a PSO-1 scope onto his RPK. I turned back around, satisfied that Kiril was preparing to contribute.

For a moment, I stopped firing and put down my rifle to look at the enemies that Shrub was supposed to target. The moment I pulled my binoculars to check the enemy lines, one of their senior leaders - distinguished by their darker uniforms and red streaks - had his head blown off instantly with a Desert Eagle shot. Then another one had their head blown off. And another one.

It was almost satisfying. But at the same time, mystifying. I guess Shrub's ten years in the ISA told him all he needed to point and shoot at an enemy. Even if they were kilometers away.

I was pulled out of monologuing when several bullets whizzed past me. Hurriedly I ducked down and glanced at Ilyin, who aimed the Prism cannon back in the air. I suppose those were more of the Drones that ambushed us earlier in the streets.

"Drones!" Ilyin shouted. "They're approaching the North!"

"Fire at those Drones with the Cannon!"

"Yes sir!"

I looked at Dimitri, who was reloading his machine gun. "Dima! I want the infantry suppressed as long as possible!"

"Got it, boss!"

As I kept myself crouched down and the men firing, I turned the radio back on. "This is Section North! Status update, everyone!" I shouted.

"This is Agat A! We're being surrounded! Sprut tracks are damaged, I repeat! Sprut tracks are damaged! BMD main gun's offline, but the commander's using his rifle!" Agat A shouted, the sound of gunfire on their radio.

"Agat B! We're falling back inside the school! Our cover's been destroyed and we're going to park inside, over!"

"This is Team B, we're about to be overrun," That alarmed me. "Reunion's got to the doors, but haven't fully destroyed them yet. We're starting to run out of ammo and our Prism Cannon's malfunctioned. If the door falls, we're going to fall back to the stairs and attempt to prevent Reunion movement. Even with our limited ammo."

"Anatoly here," Tolya spoke, the sound of Mortar thumping echoing through his radio. "I'm providing fire support to Agat A. Will switch to Team B in a second. Running out of ammo though. After ten last shells, I'll retreat in."

I nodded."Team A copies all, over," I responded. "Command says we're seeing a Company's worth of Reunion advancing on us. We have three minutes until CAS enters the area. In the meantime, fall back when necessary. Petrov, send a Repair Drone over to Agat A. Got that, over?"

"Affirmative," Petrov noted. Though he was supposed to be my Commanding Officer, our situation allowed for some leeway and cooperation. Just this once. "Repair Drone's up!" He shouted, the sound of a propeller broadcasting from his radio.

"Mhm," I received from Agat A. "Thanks."

"The rest of you, hold out. We're going to get CAS in three minutes."

"Copy that, Team A."

"Alright. Team A out." I said.

Still, it could be far worse. I mean, CAS in three minutes? That was a life-saver. Now, what could-

As I spoke, I heard the glass a few rows next to us shatter. And the suspect was a Reunion soldier with a jetpack. Immediately before they could get their bearings, I opened fire on them. They immediately fell to the ground, dying as bullets tore through them. A shatter behind us alerted me to a Reunion infiltrator. Immediately, Kiril put a round through his skull.

"Jetpacks!" I shouted. "They're bringing in Rocketeers!"

"Just what we fucking needed!" Kiril yelled. "Rifle's ready! Captain, cover the sides! Watch out for glass or Reunion Rocketeers!" He shouted, standing up and positioning himself by the firing ports.

"Roger." I shouted, moving away from the firing ports to keep my head on a swivel.

The glass shattered to my left, and to my annoyance, the Reunion soldier who barged in had a shield. And while I managed to restock on AK rounds courtesy of Agat, the same could not be said for GP-25 rounds, which were not stocked in the IFVs.

Great.

So, I resorted to running up to him. While he had a sword and shield. Not a good idea. And it shows.

I was knocked to the ground by the shield and fell on my ass. Immediately, they swing their sword down with the intent of bisecting me. I rolled away and grabbed the rifle. Firing at him while he left his guard open.

He fell to the ground, clutching his sword and shield vainly.

"He's dead!" I shouted.

To my horror, another two windows shattered behind me. I turned back, rifle ready to fire on them-

When suddenly the windows crashed behind me and I felt two hands grasping my neck. I was pulled back, as their strength was comparable to that of an angry bull. I kicked and flailed trying to get him off me, but nothing could cut it. Angling my mouth so that it could reach their hand, I bit into it harshly and began moving my teeth, ripping off chunks of his outer skin. Slowly.

They let go in a panic and tried to get a look at his hands. I turned around and pushed them down, and grabbed them by the mask to pummel their head into the floor, lifting them then slamming them down. After doing this twice, I ripped the mask off in a fit of rage, cracking it when I pulled it up and ripped it off its straps.

Facing me was not a faceless monster, but a young woman who had a look of frozen terror in her eyes.

She vainly tried to throw a punch, but I grabbed it with my two arms and twisted it into an extremely uncomfortable position - eventually breaking the arm. Before she could do it with her second arm, I also broke that. Unfortunately, not accounting for the legs first got me almost pushed off.

Rather than let them win though, I pulled my Grach out of my holster and shot her in the chest. Immediately she stopped kicking me and screamed in pain. I stood up and turned around, to aim at the two Reunion soldiers who had broken the right side windows prior. To my surprise, I found them barely breathing and incapacitated, so I turned back to my victim.

To my surprise, she cursed out in Russian. Albeit a highly dialectic one, with an almost noticeable accent. It was like an Old Russian accent applied to Modern Russian.

"Why?! Just-" She coughed out, looking at me with a pained expression. I could tell that she signed up for a noble act, but didn't expect to be... maimed so barbarically. It was one thing to be fought in hand-to-hand by a Minigunner, but to try it against someone with certifications from the VDV? It was idiotic. "Why do this...?"

I bit my lip and rolled my eyes. "You brought this on yourself." I commented, raising the pistol.

"Wait! Don't!"

"Hmm?" I asked, pistol still raised at her. I raised my eyebrow in a thinking moment. "Oh, tell me. Why shouldn't I end your misery? Isn't this what you do? Against the 'oppressors'?" I lowered my pistol and glared at her, having a philosophical conversation while my men were holding off the horde of Reunion. Based on what I caught, they were doing good.

Good enough for me to have this moment.

"I-" She stammered, trying to raise her broken arms, only to scream in pain. "I surrender! I'll tell you what you want! Anything! Please!" She broke down sobbing. I guess it took another equally brutal method to break someone who's done it. "PLEASE!" She finally screamed.

I lowered my pistol. I'd rather not waste a valuable prisoner. That, and it's not very courteous of GDI Officers to do that. "Fair enough," I grabbed her by her broken arms and glared harshly at her. "But you muck up, and you're dead. Got it?" I shoved them against a wall. I turned around and walked towards the two other people who were incapacitated and dragged them by their feet, propping them against the wall. I couldn't tell if they were conscious or not, and I didn't have the time to check.

"Got some Prisoners here," I turned to Ilyin. "I'll call Stan."

Ilyin nodded and returned to firing his Prism Cannon at the incoming horde of Reunion.

"Hey, Stan," I spoke into the radio, staring at the Reunion prisoners. The two incapacitated Reunion prisoners squirmed, while the one woman with both of her arms broken merely stared back at me with terrified eyes. "I've got three extra prisoners here. Think you can guard 'em alongside the kids?"

Stan coughed into the radio, before responding. "I-I can try. But I've got this killer headache and... Jeez, I think my jaw's starting to stiffen. It's getting hard to fucking speak... Jesus Christ."

"Alright. Just get them into the prisoner room when you can." I turned back to the window. "I'll be providing covering fire."

"Got it. Stan out."

I fetched my AK and began putting more rounds downrange. I wasn't used to fighting past 100 meters with my AK. But given that it's doing okay enough, I'd say that made me Marksman-worthy. Hell, had I been in the Allied Armed Forces* I might be a sniper. But I'm not a sniper nor am I part of the AAF. So here I am shooting things with an AK not equipped with a PSO-1.

At least I had my GP-25 to fall back to.

"This is Agat A!" The radio cried out. "Our main guns are offline, and there's a horde of Reunion about to breach the gates! We're rigging the Sprut and BMD to detonate, and are falling back inside the building!"

Goddamnit!

"Agat B here!" Agat B interjected, much to my horror as I realized that we may be facing an actual breach. Fuck! "Our tracks are hit and we can't retreat. We're abandoning the vehicle. Ammo and fuel are almost out anyway, so they're not getting much! We're falling back to the center of the hallway. How copy, over?"

"Team A copies," I grit out. "Just get out of there."

"Copy."

A moment of silence showed itself, only to be snuffed out by the sounds of gunfire coming from the stairway. Agats A and B had their crew falling back. Hopefully, they brought the ammo they had on their IFVs with them.

We just had to hold the North and South sectors.

An impossible task, but we could do it for a while.

"Team B here," Petrov stated. "The South gate is being breached. We can hold them off for a minute, but after that, we are going to fall back to the hostage room. How copy, over?"

"Priyom. Just enough time for CAS to arrive. Hold, then fall back."

"Team B copies. Out."

Putting my AK down, I turned on the radio to see how two other men were doing. "Anatoly. Status check. Over." I spoke.

"Out of ammunition," Anatoly replied. "Falling back to the second floor, over."

"Roger. Sit tight in the hostage room, and prepare barricades, over." I spoke, receiving an affirmative from Anatoly. In the meantime, I had to know how Shrub was doing. When I pulled my binoculars back, I couldn't see Shrub in his hiding spot.

"Agent Shrub. Status check. How copy, over?"

"This is Agent Shrub-" He panted and wheezed over the radio. "Just got out of the building! Those Reunion jetpacks nearly got to me. Had to fight off an entire of the bastards. I can't provide any more rear line marksmanship, and I'm falling back to the school. Do me a favor and Prism the fucking building, and make sure it falls to the right side. It'll take out those Reunion bastards both in and out of the building, over."

"Roger. Do what you can, Agent Shrub. We're torching the fucking building, out."

I turned back to Ilyin, still handling the Prism Cannon. "Torch the apartment block there," I pointed to Shrub's former hiding spot, now flooded with Reunion jetpackers searching for Shrub. "And make sure it falls on the right side."

"My right or the other right?" Ilyin asked.

"Your right." I deadpanned, putting the binoculars down.

"Copy. Firing away." Ilyin shifted the Prism beam to the apartment block that Shrub hid in. When the Prism beam hit the building, the wall crumbled immediately, a hole tearing through it. Looking through the binoculars, I was frankly disappointed. I scanned the building, I noticed an exposed support beam. They must have cut corners if that was exposed.

Wait. I have an idea.

"Ilyin. Hit the left wall."

When the Prism beam hit the left, two barely-visible support beams were exposed. I put down my binoculars and turned to Ilyin. "See those Support Beams?" I said, pointing at the left wall where a hole was. Ilyin's response was to nod.

"I see 'em."

"Sever them," I ordered. "Then weaken the support beams to the right. It'll cause it to collapse to the right."

"Roger. Firing."

One Prism beam hit the first left-side support beam. Then the second Prism hit the second left-side support beam. "Ilyin! Rightside support beam, now!" I shouted, watching as he turned right and shot out the first visible support beam. The second one, I couldn't see from my position. However, Ilyin firing off a Prism beam meant that he could see it while I couldn't.

Immediately the effects showed themselves. The building initially leaned right, before swerving right as it fell. To my shock, my plan worked, and the building collapsed to the right, smashing into the rear line of Reunion. Through my binoculars, I could see people getting crushed as the building smashed and crashed on top of them. Blood and dust from the debris caked the rear, rather than the cool rain. The dust from the shockwave caused a small smokescreen that stalled Reunion forces who just barely escaped the collapse of the building.

Not a second later, several explosions showed up in the streets they were using to rush at us. Napalm bombs. I watched as Reunion's infantry charge stopped, all because of the flames. Looking up at the sky, I saw something that brought relief to me. Flying high above was an A-10 Warthog, presumably loaded with Napalm bombs. After dropping the first set of Napalm bombs, it turned around and dropped another on the area, totally coating it in flame.

"This is the 2nd Aviation Bomber Regiment, callsign Troika," The radio blared out as the A-10 turned around. "I see you boys are in trouble. Don't worry, it seems that we came at just the right time. Give us another target, and we'll guarantee it'll be wiped out in no time."

"Thank God," I muttered. "Troika! I need one of your planes to cover the southern area of the building! Another fire team's about to lose their wall, and we're falling back to consolidate a more defensive position. Copy?"

"Troika copies," The pilot replied. "Bombs away. Out."

I stood up, almost sighing in relief. The Reunion forces were driven off. For now at least.

"HQ," I called. "How many minutes until extraction?"

"Six minutes," The Brigadier-General replied. "Hold until then. Stay alive. Out."

Damnit. Didn't even get to say thanks for the Reinforcements. Fucking Command.

That didn't matter now though, I had to ensure that we could still hold the line against those fucking Reunion bastards.

"Team B here," Petrov called. "Reunion wave was annihilated by an airstrike. Falling back to a better position, the door's almost breached and we don't want to risk getting flanked by the stairway."

"Team A copies, we're falling back to the hostage room on the second floor."

"Copy. Though who's going to defend the north sector?"

"I'll see if I can get Agent Shrub to work with one of the Agat Teams to keep the northern door checked. Keep the gap filled in the meantime. Team A out."

"Copy. Team B out."

At that moment, Stan walked into my view, turning left from the room that held the hostages. Glancing at the prisoners, he sighed. "I guess these are the prisoners I have to drag back into the hostage room?" He deadpanned. I shook my head and glared at the prisoners.

"No, We're going to move them together," I grabbed one prisoner by the legs and lifted them over the shoulder. "Get your ass moving."

"Copy that," Stan noted, grabbing a prisoner and carrying them by the shoulder. Glancing back, I was about to tell one of the soldiers to carry the last prisoner, but it seemed like Dimitri did that instead. Carrying the last prisoner... while lugging his machine gun around. Chuckling, I turned back and turned right at the next corner to the classroom where we held the hostages and the other prisoner.

As soon as we got into the room I dropped the prisoner I was holding and smashed open one of the windows to the right. Turning to Dimitri, who just put his prisoner down, I pointed my thumb at the window. "Dima. Cover Team B's sector from here."

"Copy that sir," He said, hauling his machine gun to the window and emplacing it down. "Emplacing machine gun now."

I turned to Ilyin. "Ilyin. Prism Cannon. Doorway. Now."

"On it." He said, unfolding the Prism Cannon and positioning it to face the doorway. He used a school table for this, as the Cannon had to face the doorway to fire on Reunion soldiers advancing.

Kiril, meanwhile, leaned against the wall and sat down. Trying to recover. I'd send him to defend a position, but I feel his pain. This was... tiring. Tiring enough for me to do the same, leaning down on the wall and sit, AK pointed at the doorway.

Turning on the radio as I sat down, I let out a big sigh. Just a few more minutes until extraction, I told myself.

"Anatoly. Update."

"Falling back," He said. "I heard the North sector's unguarded. Should I help defend it downstairs?"

"Yes. Hold on, I'm getting reinforcements to help you. But I copy," I stated, receiving an affirmative from Anatoly. "Shrub! Have you made it into the building yet?!" I shouted.

"Yeah!" He replied, wheezing. "Jesus Christ, I'm sweating like a fish. What do you need?"

"Can you guard the northern sector's door? Anatoly's going to defend that door with you, and I think I can ask Agat to help you."

"Ahh fuck..." He muttered. "Alright. I'm going to make it there. Alright. Out."

Nodding, I raised my head up and sighed, staring at the ceiling. I suppose that it might be useless to guard this room when we aren't in any real threat, but it was a more defensive position than the hallway before. Due to the lack of extra windows, it's just us, a doorway, a single window to fire from, and enough tables to make a large barricade.

I glanced at Kiril, relaxing as he inspected his RPK.

"I joined the SDF to make my foster parents proud," He said, pulling the magazine out to inspect it. "Especially my dad. He always told me; 'Son, putting your life down for the Confederation is the most honorable thing you can do'. He told me about how his brother who lived in Russia gave his life for Zhukov, under the dream of a free Soviet Union," Kiril smirked and chuckled at that. "Thought that he would be proud of the Confederation, as it was born out of Zhukov's wise choice to end the USSR, a dream turned poison by Stalin's... nightmare of a state." He pulled back the charging handle of the RPK, taking a look at the chamber.

He stopped looking at the chamber and stared at the ceiling, as the lights flickered to the tune of napalm burning. That would be before Reunion launched yet another attack, given that they're hellbent on ensuring that we never make it out alive.

"I can only hope my foster parents are doing okay," Kiril muttered. "I haven't contacted them for a while. But they definitely know I was part of the Self-Defense Force. I... I just hope they'll honor me."

He and Ilyin were part of the same family, being foster brothers and all. Both of them were taken in by a Korean-Japanese immigrant family, in the far east. They were orphaned after the Smuta had paralyzed Russia and the NKVD fought with the Red Army for control of the ashes of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. But when the Confederation was established and President Zhukov initially established a support organization to move war orphans to new families, they wound up in the same family.

Prior to that, both of them didn't meet each other. Yet, their mutual background enabled them to gain extreme respect for each other. Ilyin was born in Samara, while Kiril was born in Moscow. They vowed to follow each other in their future career. And said career was the Self-Defense Force. Both of them joined, just to ensure that their foster parents could be supported, and support them too. When the both of them served together, it was against the North Koreans. When they fought in border skirmishes with the KPA.

I could feel my own heart pierced. Kiril had his foster parents and family. Meanwhile, my own nieces were left on Earth without anybody to take care of them. I leaned my head forward to stare at my own knees as I thought of what family I had left behind following this interdimensional transition. Here I was, fighting for kids I'd never meet again, just so they can feel safe again. If I make it back home, I'd be... a figure heroic enough to earn myself a book.

Hell, that'd be amazing.

But I could feel the pang in my heart that told me that I'd never come back home.

I may just be another name on a tombstone.

Sighing, I turned to Kiril.

"We're all trying to make our family proud..." I chuckled sardonically.

"Yeah. Your nieces, and my foster parents. Well," He shrugged. "Alongside Ilyin."

"Think I'll be remembered by my nieces?" I asked, looking at Kiril's tired eyes. He could only close them, and shake his head.

"We'll all be remembered, but just for disappearing when our family needed them," He replied. "With the Centralization Riots occurring, they would have loved us being with them to protect them from the pain. Yet... We're never going back home, are we?"

"We're all victims of circumstance," I muttered. "A chronosphere circumstance that is."

"Heh."

He stopped and stood up, lugging his RPK-64M. "That's just how we Russians do it."

"Indeed." I replied, getting up. I turned around to peek at Dimitri, who had trained his PK at the window. To my surprise, there weren't any Reunion attacks. I was half-expecting Reunion to attack as soon as I concluded my conversation with Kiril. Yet, while the napalm subsided, there weren't any infantry attacks. Alarmed, I tapped Dimitri on the shoulder.

"Any status on Reunion offensives?" I asked, peeking through the firing port that used to be a window. Still nobody! What the hell?

"Unknown, sir," He muttered. "They might just be hiding."

"Call me surprised then," I muttered. "Hold on. I'll be contacting Command."

"Alright." He turned back to guarding the window with his machine gun.

"HQ, do you copy?" I asked. To my annoyance... and horror, I received no response. Even though they were fast enough to respond when I ask them about reinforcement ETA. Grunting, I smacked the radio, hoping that this piece of trash would work. "Command. Do you copy? I repeat, Command, do you copy?" I asked. No response. I blinked several times.

This wasn't a dream, right?

"Command. I repeat. Do you copy?"

I ran to the window and extended my arm into the rainy sky, holding the radio to as much open space as possible. "Fucking hell! Brigadier-General, do you hear me?!" I yelled.

I retracted my hand, irritated-

I felt a stabbing pain soar through my arm as I tried to move back.

To my horror, I found out that my arm was pinned to the wall by the arrow on my hand. Which left my arm open to more attacks.

I couldn't risk it. There was only one thing I had to do.

Dragging my hand down along the impact point of the arrow, I felt my flesh tearing apart as I tried to move down to escape the arrow being pinned. I screamed in pain and felt my own fingers being bisected. Yet, I couldn't give up. I instead opted to do it as fast as possible. And I had to do it now. In one fell swoop, I yanked my hand down to free it from the arrow.

When I looked at the hand that once held the radio, the only feeling that flared up in my brain was that of horror. My middle finger and upper palm were split in half, with the bone being divided unequally as bits and pieces of it dangled like a chime. I snapped my head towards the window the arrow came from.

Pulling out my pistol almost immediately, I fired at the fog through the window, screaming in rage as I tried to dull the pain. The exposed bits of flesh and bone contributed to this rage, with the pain nerves being overwhelmed.

Die. Die. Die!

I fired until the pistol clicked empty.

Retreating back into the room, I tried to reload with only one hand. Meanwhile, Dimitri opened fire with his machine gun. Most likely against the direction the Reunion attack came from.

"Fuck! The fog's thicker!" The team leader of Agat B said. "We have to retreat! We can't fucking see! Falling back to the hostage room! Does anyone else copy, over?!"

"We're taking fire here!" Agat A shouted. "We have to fall back! Fall back!"

"Fucking-" Shrub shouted on the radio, his pistol firing in the background. "Reunion's got a smokescreen and they're using it to charge the front section! We can't hold them off, we're falling back to the hostage room and consolidating our position. Anyone copy?"

"Team B copies all," Petrov stated. "We're also falling back."

"Goddamnit," I muttered. "Vladimir here. I'm going to..."

I stopped to look at the bleeding and gooey mess that used to be my right hand. I told myself that I'd live my life to the fullest and go out dying. Yet, I still had the chance of returning back to base. But... I would be without anyone to fall back to. I have no family with me in Terra, and I'd be deadweight if I continued these operations. But at the same time, I could still fight...

I was glancing between the doorway and my AK.

Extraction was just three or two minutes away. Right?

"SHITSHITSHITSHIT- SHIT! THERE'S THREE RIOT TROOPERS APPROACHING THROUGH THE SOUTHERN DOOR! KEEP RUNNING!" Riot Troopers. Fuck.

"DRONES! RETREAT! GET BACK!"

"It's the fucking commander! We're being overrun! Retreating atop the stairway!"

"Agh, goddamnit! Run!"

It seemed like they were on the verge of breaking it. Yet... maybe it could be stopped.

Just maybe.

I glanced at my own uniform. Battered and bloody. I glanced at a piece of glass, presumably from something other than the window. I watched as my bleeding eye and old face stared back at me. Grime, acne, sweat, and blood reflected back on my face. The best of the VDV.

A battered veteran who'd never retain his eye functions again.

Alright. That was it. If I didn't do anything now, we'd all be dead just before extraction could pick us back up. As Reunion managed to catch us in an extremely bad situation, it was either do or die. Here we were, trying to pull victory out of this, as the VDV do. Only, victory would depend on my death.

Morbidly chuckling, I realized that it was my death call.

Oh well. At least I'll die knowing that I didn't die for a resource war, but just so we can rescue people in need.

To quote a great chieftain in Native America;

Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide.

Standing up, I pulled back the slide on my pistol with my right hand's thumb and index fingers - the only few not torn apart by ripping my hand down to get off the arrow. In the chamber, I had no rounds left. Then I checked my pistol magazines. Well, only one left.

Make it count.

I put it in the pistol and racked the slide. It was time I go out.

Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

"This is Vladimir," I said. "I'm going in. I'll be holding off the Riot Troopers. The rest of you, retreat into the hostage zone. I'm defaulting command of the squad to Major Petrov," I stated, heading toward the stairway and passing by Agat A. "Take care of my men for me, Petrov, alright?"

"Vlad! What the hell are you doing?!" Ilyin yelled over the radio. "You're going to get killed!"

I sighed and replied solemnly. "That's the point, Ilyin. I'm preparing to meet my maker," I replied. "To all units and attaches. Retreat back to the hostage room and try to hold for another two minutes."

"Jesus Christ Vlad," Shrub replied. "Are you sure? I can help. I've got the Desert Eagle."

"Just cover the stairs, Shrub. I'll deal with them on the bottom floor. Besides," I laughed a little. "I've already lost one eye and I'm operating on half the health I normally have. I'll just be dead weight if I keep doing these missions. It was an honor serving with you, Aurora."

"Goddamnit! Vladimir!" Petrov shouted.

Yet, nobody came to drag me back in. I suppose they understand the principle of this sacrifice.

It's been an honor.

I turned left in the stairway, facing the first floor, which was covered in thick fog and smoke. It was tall enough to obscure my knees.

"This is Vladimir, signing off. For the last time. Out."

As I walked down stairs, I watched as three men in heavy riot control gear advanced from the door in the North sector. Following them were Reunion troops. And from what they looked like, elite ones too. Drawing my pistol, I opened fire at them. With no effect on the Riot Troopers, but some effect on the red-and-black Reunion troops. Matter of fact, they remind me of the Black Hand.

Almost immediately however, I felt an Arrow penetrate my vest. I recoiled, but continued shooting. And another arrow was fired, instantly hitting me in the arm. I would have aimed my pistol, but a Reunion swordsman charged at me, aiming to shove me down. It was too late for me to dodge as the weight of the Reunion soldier crashed into me, slamming my back in the wall.

I quickly snapped my pistol and shot the Swordsman several times. His chest exploded into a shower of gore. Surprising for a 9mm pistol.

Moving my head to the hallway, I saw the other Reunion soldiers trying to get to the stairs. I aimed my pistol at them and tried firing, but to my horror, the gun clicked dry after the first shot. I had wasted my ammunition shooting the Swordsman who charged at me. Not a second later I heard gunfire up the stairs, and my eyes widened. They were breaching the lines.

I failed to hold them off.

To be expected, as I was a sole Minigunner against a company. Yet I tried.

If extraction was just a minute away...

It better come here fast.

My strength left me as I dropped the empty pistol on the stairway, my one eye barely kept up as I rapidly blinked. When I moved my head, I watched as a squad of Reunion approached my side of the stairway. In the foreground of the squad was... oh no.

Oh fuck.

It was the Commander of the Reunion forces in this area. The young kid who's been planning ambushes against us. I would have grabbed my pistol, but I couldn't even lift my arm to vainly approach it.

Guess I was bleeding out.

I could only smile a little as I realized that I might never give this brat the satisfaction of truly killing me.

"What do we have here?" He said, crouching down as gunfire echoed above. "Someone who wasted their life defending monsters?"

He stood up and looked at one of the Reunion soldiers. "Hand me the sword." He ordered, getting the sword as the Reunion soldier handed it. He then glanced at me and drove the sword into my shoulder.

I couldn't even scream as the searing pain of the sword began to override my remaining strength. However, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of screaming. I just glared at him, with my remaining eye.

"Oh?" He asked, surprised. "We have a wise one, eh?" He smarmily said, before immediately pulling the sword out of my shoulder. I glanced at where it cut through and was not surprised to see bleeding. I glanced back at the Commander, and could only shake my head.

He grabbed me by the chin and pulled my balaclava down. As soon as he revealed his face, I felt immediate disgust. This was the commander? A young brat with no manners? By God, I'd kill him if I had the chance.

"You think that just because you refuse to speak, you are strong?" He shook his head. "The fires of justice will exterminate your petty imperial interests. Why bother?" He pulls my pistol from the side and glared at me. "Look at this. A pistol. If you were able to fire this, that was a sign that you could control your Arts," He put it in his pocket. "And yet, you die for the Imperials first?"

Grinning, I chuckled, before spitting on his face.

"Khulyo."

Enraged, he recoiled and wiped his face, glaring at me.

"Why you-"

He didn't get another word off before an explosion echoed on the second floor, shaking the building. Through the stair, I heard what appeared to be echoed Russian. The words "Rappel down!" and "Engage! Engage!" echoed through the second floor, before being joined by rapid gunfire. And on the other stairway, I saw elite Reunion soldiers retreating, some gunned down as they retreated.

One Reunion soldier grabbed the Commander. "Mephisto! They've brought reinforcements! We're already low on manpower, I suggest we retreat now!"

"Damnit!" He shouted, jerking his arm away from the Reunion soldier's grip. I laughed as they began to turn around and flee. Mephisto - the commander - looked back at me with an enraged face. He grabbed the sword he used to stab my shoulder earlier, and pointed it at me. "You imperialist pigs!"

I could only let out two words as I felt lightheaded, and pain in my organs increased.

"Mephisto, Khulyo!"

I had embraced death, and waited for this rat bastard to issue it.

Enraged, he shouted one last insult. "Die!" He shouted. Laughing, I could only stare as he threw the sword-

---

Notes from Tolya:

Ukrainian Civil War - A multi-party civil war sparked after the liberal democratic Ukrainian National Government was overthrown by the Stalinist Ukrainian People's Red Army after a deadlock in the Ukrainian Rada elections that followed a major recession. It resulted in the formation of the Ukrainian People's Republic, and the establishment of the Ukrainian Government-in-Exile in Donbas and Crimea.

Knee Mortar - Officially the 2S11 Koleno, the Knee Mortar is a Russian ultra-light mortar developed after a need for man-portable mortars useable by a single person in the VDV. These mortars would be fired by propping it against the knees, and pressing the Mortar barrel in, firing through a spring. They use SPARCS to aim the Precision-Guided Shells.

Tank Drop - A protocol of the Russian Ground Self-Defense Force Airborne Forces, whereupon a Commander could call in a tactical drop of two BMD-3 IFVs and two Sprut-SD light tanks. Often accompanied by the Paradrop protocol, the Tank Drop is often used to rapidly reinforce infantry units in enemy territory with light armor.

Apple-IBM - A merger of the Apple Company and IBM Computers, Apple-IBM is the manufacturer of portable military command tablets alongside personal phones, virtual clipboards, and communications tablets. Their technology is used by a majority of United Nations member-states. Its Nod counterpart is Huawei Systems, which supplies Nod's commanding software.

SPARCS - Soldier Parachute Aerial Reconnaissance Camera System, a 'camera round' which contains a UAV that can be used to map out battlefields. It is commonly used by VDV Mortarmen as artillery spotters when used in conjunction with their 'Ratnik' Eyepiece, which allows communication integration with other GDI forces and SPARCS rounds.

Flaubert's House - (French: Maison de Flaubert) was a fortified apartment building during the Second World War that French Armed Forces defenders held for 60 days against the Red Army offensive during the Battle for Paris. The siege lasted from 27 September to 25 November 1952, after which the French Defenders were overrun by the Red Army.

Konfedmultfilm - Confedcartoon, or SMF Animation Studio in English, is a Russian Animation Studio based in Saint Petersburg. Launched in 10 June 1958, the studio has produced more than 1,500 works. Konfedmultfilm specializes in the creation of animated television series, feature films, and stop-motion films. They are also one of the biggest studios to produce Rusanim, or Russian Animation.

Sat Scan - A protocol of the Global Defense Initiative, whereupon a GDI mapping satellite is called upon to scan an area to reveal geographic information or enemy movements. These satellites rotate across the globe in a network. On Earth, the cooldown between rotations is five minutes. In Terra, that is stretched to twenty-two hours.

Allied Armed Forces - Officially the United Armed Forces of the Allied Nations, the AAF is a military entity associated with the Allied Nations. It was created in the mid-to-late 1950s, after the collapse of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, and was intended as a merger of the remnant Allied Overcommand and its associated armies.

---

{1} - Original Quote: ''Governor, if Kitty Dukakis were raped and murdered, would you favor an irrevocable death penalty for the killer?''

- 1988 U.S. Presidential debates, Michael Dukakis vs. George H.W. Bush

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[1] "Дмитрий! Подними этот ПК!" - "Dimitri! Get that PK up!"

[2] "Влад! Гранату за мусорку! Живо!" - "Vlad! Grenade, over the dumpster! Now!"

[3] "Огонь, огонь!" - "Keep firing, keep firing!"

[4] "Я хочу, чтобы все до единого из этих беломасочных ублюдков сдохли! Понятно?!" - "I want every single one of those white mask bastards dead! You got that?!"

[5] "Автомат заклинило! Прикройте меня!" - "Rifle's jammed! Cover me!"

Special thanks to my Russian Reader Dimitri for the translation. On as Dmitry Petrov, go review his work.

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Author's Notes:

Here the fuck I am! I spent June and the start of my Summer Vacation wanting to do this chapter, but procrastination and distractions basically took the time away from me. After forcing myself to work at this until 3 AM, I pushed myself to finish it as fast as possible. As I have a summer assignment and ten days to finish it. Here I am hoping that this chapter is of good quality considering it took me a long time to do this.

There'll be a short After-Action Report that slowly transitions back into the main storyline. The next arc is going to focus on the aftermath of the Lungmen attacks and the economic aftershocks that this battle would have on the Terran economy. Considering that most people would not invest in an unsafe region, corporate investors will... well, let's just say that the economy of Terra is going to shit the bed for a bit.

I promised things like translation funnies and gag lines, but after working on this chapter I realized that since it was akin to Grozny, there was really no slot for lighthearted translation humor. Sorry if I disappoint.

Otherwise though, have this chapter.

Signed, someone who stayed up until 3 AM just for this.

See you all next time.

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