The Wars within

by Swiss Shadow

What happens when modern tanks of the 21st century suddenly appear in the war-torn world of 86-Eighty-Six? A clash of eras, ideologies, and technology ignites, shaking the battlefield to its core. As explosions light the skies and alliances are tested, secrets buried deep in the fog of war threaten to change everything.

5. Chapter -5- Let there be Licht!

Pre-Author's Note: Jump back a Chapter and re-Read that. I kind of messed up the dates and it wouldn't have made much sense story wise... hehe... sorry you guys.

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Stellar year 2148, May 20th

Republic of San Magnolia

Somewhere inside the District 1

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The sterile halls of the San Magnolian military laboratory echoed with chaos as gunshots cracked the air. The screams of panicked personnel added to the cacophony as Adrian, Emma, and Otto advanced with cold precision. Their tan jumpsuits were smeared with dirt and sweat, but their movements were calculated, their training evident.

Armed with confiscated SIG P226s, the three Germans dispatched the ill-prepared Military Police with brutal efficiency. Each corner was cleared with swift precision, their footsteps heavy but unwavering as they made their way toward their objective: the confiscated gear room.

A group of MPs attempted to form a barricade near an intersection. Adrian held up a fist, signaling the others to halt. He leaned out, assessing the situation, before gesturing to Emma and Otto.

"Suppressive fire, right side," Adrian whispered. "Otto, move left with me."

Emma nodded, her expression hard as she stepped forward and fired three precise shots. Two MPs dropped immediately, while the third scrambled for cover, returning erratic fire.

Adrian and Otto flanked left, moving as a unit. Otto fired as they advanced, the sharp cracks of the pistol echoing through the hallway. Adrian surged forward, his movements smooth and relentless. A single shot to the last MP ended the standoff.

"Clear," Adrian muttered, motioning for Emma to join them.

They reached a heavy metal door marked Confiscated Materials. Adrian tested the handle—locked, of course. Emma stepped forward, scanning the doorframe.

"Basic lock mechanism," she muttered. "Otto, got that multitool?"

Otto smirked, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I'll do you one better," he said before delivering a powerful kick to the door. The wooden panel splintered and flew off its hinges with a deafening crash, the broken lock mechanism clattering somewhere down the hallway.

The three tankers rushed inside, pistols drawn and sweeping the room for any threats. As they entered, motion sensors activated the overhead lights, illuminating the stark room. Shelves and tables filled the space, and there it was—their confiscated gear. Flak vests, helmets, and other vital equipment lay neatly arranged, like relics of their former selves.

Adrian stepped forward, grabbing his helmet from the table. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it briefly before securing it back on his head with a satisfying click. "Feels like home already," he muttered.

"Hey, guys!" Emma suddenly called out, her voice cutting through the room. Both Adrian and Otto turned to face her, their eyes narrowing in curiosity as they followed her pointing finger.

There it was—a massive glass panel embedded in the wall, revealing a large garage-like space beyond. And inside, their tank stood, pristine yet imposing under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"What a beauty," Otto breathed, his awe evident as he approached the glass, his eyes glued to the machine that had carried them through countless battles. He reached Emma's side and handed her her flak vest, his gaze never leaving the tank.

Emma smirked, shrugging on the vest and fastening it snugly. "Good to see her again. Thought they might've taken her apart by now."

"Yo, stop messing around! We don't have time for this," Adrian barked, his tone sharp as he efficiently tucked spare magazines into the pouches on his flak vest. He grabbed his HK G-45 rifle from the table, slammed a magazine into the magwell with practiced precision, and gave it a firm smack for good measure.

With a swift motion, he pulled back the charging handle, letting it snap forward with a satisfying metallic clack.

The two nodded and set to work without hesitation. The room was filled with the sharp sounds of buckles snapping, velcro tearing, and equipment being secured as they prepared for the next step. Each movement was deliberate, the tension palpable.

Emma grabbed her rifle from the table, inspecting it with a furrowed brow. "Damn bastards," she muttered under her breath.

Otto glanced over, raising an eyebrow in question.

Emma noticed his look and held up her rifle, pointing to the now-empty Picatinny rail on top. "Sons of bitches took the optic off," she said, her tone dripping with annoyance. "Now I've gotta re-zero this asshole all over again."

Otto smirked, shaking his head as he grabbed his own weapon. "You're lucky they didn't strip it down entirely. Just shoot straight and quit complaining."

"Easy for you to say," Emma shot back, already checking the rest of her gear. "You're not the one with a naked rifle."

Otto chuckled lightly and gave Emma a playful smack on the shoulder. "Still got the good ol' reliable irons," he teased, his tone dripping with mockery as he moved toward Adrian.

Emma scoffed, tucking the now practically useless optic into a spare pouch. She racked the charging handle on her rifle and fell into step behind them, her irritation evident.

Adrian stood by the massive glass panel, his expression grim as he surveyed the situation. "Listen up," he began, his voice low and serious. "This glass? Bulletproof. That door?" He gestured toward a heavy blast door on the far side of the room. "Blast-proof. Neither one's giving way to our rifles."

Otto and Emma frowned as Adrian pointed toward a sign above another door visible through the glass wall. The sign read, HANGAR-6 in bold letters.

"We've got no choice," Adrian continued. "We fight our way back out of this room, circle completely around through the facility, and enter through that door right there." He pulled out his phone, snapping it into a sleek forearm-mounted contraption. The device seemed to adapt and shift, forming seamlessly around his forearm.

The screen lit up briefly, displaying NATO Tactical Systems in white, bold letters before transitioning to a detailed map of the facility. Adrian tapped a highlighted area. "Took this shot earlier. It'll guide us through."

He turned around, facing both of his comrades, his expression a mix of determination and focus. "We stay close to each other, no exceptions. Watch each other's backs. And remember," Adrian said, his voice steady, "slow is smooth, and smooth is fast."

Emma nodded, adjusting her grip on her rifle, while Otto gave a small smirk, ready for what was to come.

Adrian's expression shifted into a mad grin, his eyes alight with purpose. "Alright then. Let's get this done."

Without waiting for a reply, Adrian raised his rifle, the stock snug against his shoulder, and made his way toward the doorway they had entered from. On the other side, a gathering of Military Police, armed researchers, and regular soldiers stood waiting, their weapons raised and nerves evident in their tense stances.

What none of the San Magnolians expected was the advantage the NATO soldiers had: the advanced optics mounted on Adrian's and Otto's rifles. With their precise targeting capabilities, it was practically cheating.

Adrian's finger squeezed the trigger, and the rifle barked, the first shot finding its mark dead center. A Military Policeman crumpled, his weapon clattering to the floor. Otto was right behind him, his own rifle spitting lead with deadly accuracy, each round dropping another enemy in quick succession.

Emma, meanwhile, provided suppressive fire with practiced ease. Her rifle barked repeatedly, keeping the remaining San Magnolians pinned behind whatever cover they could find. She didn't need the precision optics to do her job—her bullets were meant to keep their heads down and prevent them from coordinating a counterattack.

"Keep moving!" Adrian barked, his voice cutting through the chaos as he advanced toward their next objective. Otto nodded, a wild grin on his face as he moved in step with Adrian, his shots steady and calculated. Emma fell into formation behind them, her suppressive fire shifting to cover their flanks as they pressed forward.

The San Magnolians didn't stand a chance against the relentless assault, their lack of training and cohesion painfully evident as the three tankers pushed through with ruthless efficiency.

Adrian glanced down at the Tac-Terminal mounted on his forearm, the screen glowing faintly as the map updated in real-time. "Next one's left!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. Without missing a beat, he pivoted and fired two quick shots, the recoil barely noticeable as another Military Policeman crumpled to the ground, two rounds center mass.

Otto stayed close behind Adrian, his rifle angled slightly as he leaned around his comrade to take a shot. Two well-placed rounds struck a researcher fumbling to reload an FAL rifle. The woman dropped instantly, the clatter of her weapon echoing in the corridor.

Emma covered the rear, her stance steady as she created an impenetrable wall of suppressive fire. She had switched her rifle to automatic, expertly firing short, controlled bursts of three to four rounds at a time. Each burst sent the enemy scrambling for cover, ensuring no one dared to outflank them. The sound of her rifle's rapid fire reverberated through the narrow hallways, a constant reminder that any attempt to close in would be met with overwhelming force.

A sharp click echoed in Emma's ears, and she angled her rifle to the left, checking the bolt. It had locked back—she was empty.

"I'm out! Cover me!" she barked, dropping to one knee. Otto immediately fell back a step, pivoting to shield her while Adrian held his position up front, continuing to suppress the incoming fire.

Emma swiftly ejected the empty magazine, letting it clatter to the floor as she fumbled to grab a fresh one. Bullets zipped past her head, and her fingers trembled as she tried to jam the new magazine into the magwell. Her first attempt missed entirely. "Son of a—" she muttered, frustration mounting.

On her second try, the magazine slid in smoothly. She smacked the bolt catch, sending the bolt forward with a satisfying clack, and gave it a quick check to ensure it was in battery. It was.

"Otto, I'm good! Go!" she called, shifting to a firing position. Otto nodded, moving back to his original spot beside Adrian as Emma took up her rifle, scanning the hallway for threats while covering their advance.

About ten meters ahead, a stairwell on the left had become a persistent thorn in Emma's side. An MP had taken cover there, popping out sporadically to fire blindly toward her position. The once pristine white marble surrounding the area had been chipped away, exposing the dull gray stone beneath.

The man leaned out just enough to stretch his arms forward, firing a volley from his FAL without even aiming. Bullets sprayed in her direction.

Emma ducked instinctively, her heart pounding as rounds whizzed past. She raised her rifle, taking aim through the chaos, and unleashed a controlled burst of 6.8mm rounds. The steel-brass hybrid casings clattered to the floor as the two calibers met mid-air, passing each other in the deadly exchange.

A single 7.62mm round from the MP's FAL found its mark, tearing into Emma's leg. Pain shot through her body, and she collapsed with a groan, her rifle clattering to the ground for a brief moment.

Gritting her teeth, she refused to stay down. Grabbing her rifle again, she aimed toward the stairwell and emptied her magazine in a relentless burst. The rapid fire tore through the MP's arms and shredded his rifle, sending both the man and his weapon crashing to the ground. Emma exhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the weapon as she forced herself to check her surroundings despite the searing pain in her leg.

"Adrian! Otto! I'm hit! I'm hit!" Emma yelled over the cacophony of gunfire, panic seeping into her voice as she saw blood pooling rapidly beneath her thigh. The round had torn clean through, leaving her leg trembling and weak.

Adrian was at her side in an instant, dropping to his knees to inspect the wound. "Stay calm, Emma! Stay calm!" he barked, his voice steady but firm as he ripped a tourniquet from his vest. Otto, meanwhile, shifted his position slightly, laying down precise suppressive fire, each shot finding its mark with lethal efficiency.

Adrian quickly bound the tourniquet around her thigh, pulling it tight until the bleeding slowed to a halt. "Okay, it missed the bone," he said reassuringly, his tone slightly softer now. "You'll be fine."

Emma nodded shakily, clutching her rifle tightly as Adrian glanced around to assess their situation. His gaze hardened. "Alright, I'll pull you, and you keep them off us. You ready?"

Her hands trembled as she adjusted her grip on the rifle. She took a shaky breath and gave him a determined nod, despite the pain written across her face. "Ready."

"Otto! The next one right and then straight ahead for twenty meters!" Adrian barked, grabbing Emma by the straps of her vest and pulling her along the floor.

Emma gritted her teeth through the pain, shouldering her rifle with one arm as she fired short, controlled bursts toward the corners and statues that provided cover for the MPs and soldiers. Her shots forced them to stay pinned, unable to mount a counterattack.

"Understood!" Otto called back, shifting his aim with practiced precision. Another MP poked his head out, and Otto didn't hesitate. A single shot rang out, the bullet punching cleanly through the officer's cap and sending him crumpling to the ground like a sack of bricks.

Adrian hauled Emma with steady determination, her suppressive fire keeping their path clear. Otto moved with calculated precision, covering their rear and ensuring no one could flank them. The cacophony of gunfire and shouted orders echoed through the halls as the three pressed on toward their objective.

A river of crimson liquid pooled beneath Emma's injured leg, staining the pristine white marble floor as Adrian dragged her along. Her face twisted in pain, but she didn't stop firing. Each squeeze of the trigger sent bursts of lead toward the MPs and soldiers, her shots forcing them to keep their heads down.

Adrian's grip on her vest was firm, his boots sliding slightly on the slick, blood-slicked surface as he pulled her with all his strength. "Hang in there, Emma!" he shouted, his voice strained but resolute.

They rounded the corner, Emma's rifle still barking in short, controlled bursts. True to Adrian's word, about twenty meters ahead, a sign reading Hangar-6 hung prominently on the wall, an arrow beneath it pointing to the left where a heavy steel door awaited them.

"There!" Otto shouted, pivoting to take down another MP who had attempted to flank them. His rifle barked, the 6.8mm rounds punching through the man's armor and sending him sprawling to the ground.

Adrian's eyes locked onto the door. "Otto, push ahead and clear the way! Emma, keep them pinned!"

"Got it!" Otto replied, sprinting forward with his rifle raised. He reached the door, slamming his shoulder against the wall beside it for cover before checking the corridor beyond.

Emma adjusted her position, gritting her teeth as pain radiated from her leg. She ignored it, focusing her aim on the soldiers regrouping in the distance. Each burst of fire from her rifle made them hesitate, giving Adrian and Otto the precious seconds they needed.

"Door's clear! Let's go!" Otto called, reaching for the handle and yanking it open.

Adrian hauled Emma to her feet, half-supporting and half-carrying her as they stumbled toward the doorway. Bullets ricocheted off the walls around them, but none hit their mark.

As they passed through the door, Otto slammed it shut behind them, twisting the heavy locking mechanism with a resounding clang. The echo of gunfire and shouting faded behind the thick steel, leaving only the sound of their labored breathing. The adrenaline coursing through their veins kept them alert, every muscle taut and ready for the next move.

Adrian leaned against the Tank, taking a moment to catch his breath. "Alright," he rasped, wiping sweat from his brow. "We're not out of this yet. Emma, how's the leg holding up?"

Emma grimaced, leaning heavily on the wall for support. "Still attached, so there's that," she quipped, though her voice was tight with pain. "But let's not hang around to find out how much worse it can get."

Adrian took a deep breath before nodding toward Otto. "Get her started. We're getting out of this hellhole."

Otto didn't waste a second, climbing into the driver's compartment inside the hull of the Panther. Moments later, the engine roared to life with an aggressive growl that echoed through the hangar. "Fully fueled and ready, just like she said!" Otto reported over the comms.

Adrian smirked, climbing onto the hull and extending a hand to Emma. "Come on," he urged, pulling her up before they both entered their respective hatches inside the turret. As Adrian settled into his commander's seat, he flipped switches and turned on the tank's systems. The interior of the Panther lit up with a faint glow as displays came online. "Satelite feed is operational," he noted, a hint of surprise in his voice. "I'm starting to like that Major."

"Yeah, who'd have thought she'd have it in her to betray her own nation," Emma replied over the comms channel as she adjusted her seat. She reached for the turret controls before her foot bumped into something beneath her. Frowning, she bent down and retrieved a small box. Curious, she opened it.

Inside, she found a neat arrangement of metallic ear cuffs. Atop the contents lay a folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she read the handwritten note aloud:

"Hand these to your comrades. They asked for them. – Major"

Emma stared at the note for a moment before leaning back in her seat. "Well, looks like our little ally really went all in," she remarked dryly, holding up one of the ear cuffs.

Adrian chuckled, flipping a switch to activate the turret systems. "Alright, enough sentiment. Emma, HE through that wall!" he ordered, his voice carrying a mix of urgency and anticipation.

Emma didn't waste time. She hit a control, and the autoloader sprang to life with mechanical precision, sliding a high-explosive shell into the breech before locking the propellant charge into place.

"HE up," Emma stated coolly, her voice calm and steady despite the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

"Fire!" Adrian barked.

The Panther's 130mm gun roared, the shockwave rattling the interior as the HE shell hurtled forward, slamming into the wall with devastating force. A thunderous explosion echoed through the hangar as concrete and debris crumbled away, leaving a gaping hole large enough for the tank to pass through without scraping its systems.

Otto grinned, gripping the controls tightly. "Path is clear. Hold on, ladies and gentlemen."

With a deep rumble, the Panther surged forward, the massive vehicle crunching over shattered debris as it drove through the newly created exit. The tankers exchanged glances, their resolve firm.

"Next stop," Adrian said with a smirk, "86th District."

The enthusiasm was short-lived as a nasty surprise awaited the Germans outside the shattered wall. A group of Juggernauts had assembled in a loose formation, their spindly legs shifting slightly as if bracing for combat. Their sleek, spider-like frames gleamed under the light, each equipped with weaponry that could make short work of most armored vehicles—but not the Panther.

As the Panther rumbled out of the wall, its engine growling menacingly, it came to an abrupt halt, facing off against the Juggernauts. For a moment, the battlefield fell silent, the two forces locked in a tense standoff.

Inside the Panther, Adrian's gaze flicked to the display as the onboard computer whirred to life, processing the Juggernauts' positions and calculating firing solutions. Bright red markers highlighted weak points on the enemy machines, along with a clear path through the formation. A synthetic voice chimed in calmly, "Optimal route calculated. Firing solution ready."

Otto, seated in the driver's compartment, let out a low whistle. "They came prepared, didn't they?"

"They think they're smart," Adrian muttered, his hands deftly moving over the controls. "But they're not above us. None of them can penetrate this armor unless they've got the high ground—and they don't." He glanced at Emma, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Emma, bring the 30-mike-mike online. I'm not wasting a tank shell on these tin cans."

Emma flipped a series of switches, and the Panther's CROWS system atop the turret hummed to life. The 30mm chain gun swiveled, locking onto the nearest Juggernaut with mechanical precision. The ammunition belt fed in, loaded with 30mm HE-T rounds—High Explosive Tracers that would erupt in bright, fiery red streaks upon firing.

"Thirty-mike-mike ready," Emma reported, her voice sharp and focused.

Adrian's smirk deepened as he leaned back slightly in his seat. "Light 'em up."

Emma squeezed the trigger, and the chain gun roared to life. The first HE-T round streaked across the battlefield, its bright red tracer burning a path before detonating against the nearest Juggernaut's side. The blast sent shrapnel flying, and the spindly machine stumbled, sparks erupting from its joints.

Otto slammed the throttle forward, the Panther surging ahead with a roar. The tank's treads crunched over the debris of the first Juggernaut wreck as the machine's hulking form cleared the wall entirely. Emma's grip on the controls was steady as she fired burst after burst from the 30mm chaingun. Each round struck its target with trained precision, leaving no room for the enemy to recover.

The red streaks of the HE-T rounds lit up the battlefield, and the Juggernauts were left in disarray. Those not immediately obliterated by the high-explosive impacts stumbled and collapsed under the sheer force of the assault, their operators either killed outright or thrown into a panic as their machines became unsalvageable heaps of metal.

"Another one down," Emma called out, her voice steady and focused as the Panther raced past another shattered Juggernaut.

"Good shooting," Adrian praised, his eyes glued to the tactical display. "Keep them on their heels. We're punching through this mess."

Otto grinned as the Panther's powerful engine carried them forward, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake. "They don't stand a chance. Poor bastards don't even know what hit 'em."

Emma adjusted her aim and sent another burst of 30mm rounds into a group of Juggernauts attempting to regroup. The shells tore through their legs and bodies, sending shrapnel and fire into the air. One by one, the machines either exploded or crumpled into useless wrecks.

"They're done for," Emma declared, the confidence in her voice growing with each kill.

Adrian scanned the horizon, ensuring no reinforcements were sneaking up on them. "Let's not get cocky. Keep moving, Otto. We've still got to break through the perimeter."

Adrian reached for the controls of his CROWS system, activating the MG3 Block 3 machine gun mounted atop the Panther. With practiced ease, he swung the weapon into position and opened fire. The rapid, hammering roar of the 7.62x51mm NATO rounds filled the air, the tracers streaking toward the advancing Juggernauts.

To Adrian's shock—and clear delight—the armor of the Juggernauts crumpled under the concentrated firepower of the MG3. The APS rounds tore through their frames with ease, shattering delicate internal systems and punching through to the operators inside.

"These things can't even take that?!" Adrian exclaimed, a wild grin spreading across his face as the MG3 roared at thirteen hundred rounds per minute. "They're tin cans! Absolute tin cans!" he yelled, almost in ecstasy, as another Juggernaut crumpled under his fire.

He paused briefly, his eyes darting to Emma, who was still methodically chewing through the enemy with the 30mm chaingun. "Keep 'em pinned!" he barked, the adrenaline clear in his voice. "I've got to establish comms with the others."

Emma gave a quick nod, her focus unwavering as she unleashed another burst. The bright red tracer rounds tore through the ranks of Juggernauts, lighting up the streets like a deadly fireworks display. "On it! Just make it quick, I'm almost out!" she called out, her voice laced with urgency.

Adrian's fingers danced over the console, toggling switches and navigating the interface as he searched for any signal. His eyes flickered between the chaotic battlefield and the glowing screen in front of him. "Come on… Come on…" he muttered under his breath, desperation creeping into his tone.

A faint blip appeared on the screen. Weak, but unmistakable—a signal. Adrian's heart raced as he locked onto it and patched into the radio frequency. Taking a steadying breath, he pressed the transmit button.

"All stations, this is Kaiser-1 transmitting in the blind," Adrian's voice came through, steady and commanding despite the chaos around him. "We are inside District-9 of San Magnolia and fighting our way out toward District-86. Anybody, how copy? Over."

The radio hissed with static, the faint hum of interference almost drowning out the weak signal. Adrian's grip tightened on the controls, his ears straining for any reply. Suddenly, the rhythmic thumping of the 30mm chaingun stopped abruptly.

"Shit! Thirty's out! Switching to the MG!" Emma barked as her fingers flew over her console. With a few quick commands, she activated the CROWS-mounted MG3, the weapon swiveling into position automatically. Without hesitation, she began peppering the advancing Juggernauts with controlled bursts of 7.62mm rounds. Though their numbers had thinned, the remaining units continued to press forward with unnerving determination.

A sharp clang echoed through the tank, the impact reverberating through the hull. "They hit us! No pen!" Emma called out, her voice steady but tense. Her eyes locked onto the offending Juggernaut on her screen. Without missing a beat, she swiveled the MG3 toward the spider-like machine and unleashed a deadly burst.

The rounds tore through the Juggernaut's canopy, shredding its operator in an instant. The lifeless machine jerked violently before veering off course, skittering uncontrollably into the side of a nearby building. The crash sent debris raining down, momentarily blocking the path of other Juggernauts.

"Nice shot, Emma!" Adrian called over the comms, his voice laced with both relief and urgency. "Keep them suppressed. Otto, push full throttle North-Northeast. Bearing zero-one-zero," he ordered firmly, his focus sharp.

As Otto revved the engine and pushed the Panther forward, Adrian's attention was suddenly caught by a faint hum in his headset. He froze, leaning closer to the console as the static gave way to a distorted but unmistakable voice.

"Kaiser-1, this is Iron Horse," the voice crackled through, distant but clear enough to hear. "Negative copy! Say again your last!"

Adrian's eyes widened in surprise and then relief. "Iron Horse, Kaiser-1!" he barked into the mic, his voice rising with renewed urgency. "We're in District-9 of San Magnolia, fighting through Juggernauts and en route to District-86! Requesting immediate status and location, over!"

Emma's head snapped toward Adrian, her focus momentarily breaking. "Was that—?" she began, but another clang from a Juggernaut shell impacting their armor brought her attention back to the fight.

"Keep shooting, Emma!" Adrian barked, his grip tightening on the controls.

"Kaiser-1, we're moving toward the Grand Mur now!" came Paul's voice, crackling slightly through the static but unmistakably energized. "Did the Major's plan work? Did you guys get free?!"

Adrian let out a sharp laugh, leaning closer to the comms. "Iron Horse, this is Kaiser-1. The Major's plan worked like a damn charm! We're mobile, armed, and kicking these tin cans to hell. What's your status? Over!"

Paul's chuckle was audible over the line. "Glad to hear it. We've got some assholes trying their chance here."

Emma, still firing off controlled bursts with the MG3, grinned at Adrian. "Sounds like they're having as much fun as we are."

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Stellar year 2148, May 16th

Republic of San Magnolia

Somewhere inside the District 86

4 days Earlier...

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"Handler-1 to Spearhead Squadron. Hello, how's everyone?" Lena's enthusiastic voice echoed through their heads, her usual cheerfulness coming through loud and clear.

The Processors froze mid-task, their attention collectively drawn to the familiar voice. Kurena, who had been in the middle of removing the magazine from her FAL rifle, stopped dead, her hands hovering in place. Her expression stiffened as she processed the sudden interruption.

Noah, standing nearby, watched her curiously. "Oi, Kurena, what's the holdup?" he asked, his voice laced with confusion. She didn't respond, instead gesturing subtly to the small metallic device clipped to her ear.

Noah frowned for a moment, then realization dawned. "Ah, it's her, isn't it? Your Handler." He crossed his arms, leaning slightly closer to observe her reaction.

Similar reactions played out across the base, as Processors paused their tasks mid-motion. Some blinked in confusion, others exchanged subtle glances as Lena's voice echoed in their minds. Conversations died off, and even the clatter of maintenance tools seemed to fade into the background.

Raiden, who had been checking the alignment on his Juggernaut's turret, paused, rubbing the back of his neck with an amused smirk. Anju froze mid-stir in the makeshift kitchen, her eyes narrowing slightly before she sighed and returned to stirring. Theo didn't even bother looking up from his sketchbook, but his pen hovered just above the page as he muttered, "It's her again."

Kurena, still seated at the makeshift range, placed her rifle down carefully and mumbled, "You always pick the most random moments, don't you, Handler-1?"

Amid the various reactions, only Shin remained completely unaffected. Sitting on the stairs, still overeatching the shooting competition. He gently closed the book he had been reading and set it down beside him with deliberate care. His crimson eyes flicked toward the distance as he exhaled an almost inaudible sigh, his tone calm and measured.

"Good morning, Handler-1," he said, breaking the silence in his usual detached manner. "How can we help?"

The base seemed to settle as his voice resonated, the tension diffusing slightly. Some of the Processors visibly relaxed, though their expressions ranged from mild amusement to resigned acceptance.

Lena's voice came through almost immediately, but this time there was a noticeable heaviness in her tone. "I'm sorry, Undertaker… about the eleven Para-RAIDs. I can't deliver them. The guys from Logistics said—" she began, sorrow seeping through her voice like a quiet storm, hesitant to unleash itself fully.

Shin, ever calm and collected, cut her off gently, his tone softer than anyone present had ever heard. "It's okay, Handler-1. It's okay."

The Processors exchanged glances, startled by the rare warmth in Shin's voice. Even Raiden, who was rarely caught off guard by anything, paused mid-step, blinking at the sudden shift in their captain's demeanor.

Lena hesitated, her voice cracking slightly. "But I promised you, and now I can't keep that promise. I—"

"Handler-1," Shin interjected again, his tone steady but carrying an unusual hint of reassurance. "You've done more than enough. We've managed this long. We'll manage again. But besides…" He paused, glancing to his side, where Paul stood adjusting an unfamiliar Para-RAID device clipped to his ear. The neurolink insertion had been a painful ordeal, but it worked. "I'd like you to meet someone."

Paul stepped closer, his voice carrying the easy confidence of a seasoned officer. "Hello? Handler-1? This is Captain John Paul Keller of the 15th NATO Quick Response Force. I don't know if you've noticed us yet, but we landed outside your walls and have been fighting these Legion bastards alongside your people. The same people, might I add, that you apparently decided to toss out for no good reason." His tone was sharp, the edge in his words unmistakable.

Lena, caught off guard, scrambled for a response. "I understand… the actions of my nation are—"

"Nonetheless," Paul interrupted, his voice booming through the link. "We're missing three of our guys, along with a pretty big tank. I'm hoping they're with you."

Lena stiffened, her initial irritation at being interrupted fading as she recalled the chaos the Panther had caused in District-1. Her voice wavered slightly as she replied, "Yes, they're here… inside District-1. Why?"

Paul exhaled, a mixture of relief and exasperation in his voice. "Thank God. Let me put it simply, Handler-1—they're trouble. You keep them locked down, or you let them out, but don't let your people piss them off. They're professionals, but they're also stubborn as hell. And that tank? It's not something your folks should be messing with."

Lena frowned, her mind racing. "I see. They've already caused quite the stir here. Are they dangerous?"

Paul's tone grew grim, laced with a sense of urgency. "To you? Only if provoked. To the Legion? They're your best shot at clearing them out. Now, here's the plan."

Lena listened intently as he continued.

"You need to let them go, with a box full of these Para-RAID thingies. I got mine from one of the kids here, so I've got to give it back later. Anyways, you need to figure out the details yourself—like the hows and whens. The best shot you've got at letting them go, without landing yourself in front of a firing squad, is to make it look like they've escaped. Stage the whole thing."

Paul paused briefly, his voice lowering. "If the situation wasn't so dire, I'd have told you to get your ass over here as well, but apparently, we need you right there, in that seat of yours, pulling the strings. Apparently you're the only one willing to give a damn about these kids. So, do you understand me, Handler-1?"

Lena swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. Panic crept into her voice as she shot back, "But… wait… what?! What you're suggesting is treason of the highest order! If I'm caught, getting shot would be the best outcome!"

Paul's voice remained steady, but there was an edge of frustration. "Handler-1, I don't think you understand the stakes here. This isn't about you or your position. It's about survival—for your people, for the Eighty-Six, and for us. If those tankers and their machine stay locked up, you're not just losing a weapon; you're losing any chance of turning the tide."

Lena's hands trembled slightly as she gripped the console. "Do you have any idea what you're asking me to do? I've already risked everything just trying to treat them like human beings!"

Paul's tone softened slightly, though the urgency still hung heavy in his words. "I get it, believe me. But victory never comes without a cost." His voice hardened as he continued, "Someone has to bleed for others to thrive. These kids here? They're already risking their asses every single day, dying like flies so your people can sip mojitos and eat caviar at fancy parties without a care in the world."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in before driving his point home. "You need to do this, Handler-1. If not for you or your people, do it for them. You're already halfway there. You've stood up to your corrupt system, you've questioned their lies. This is just the next step."

Lena's breath hitched as his words struck a chord deep within her. "And what happens to me if I get caught?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The line went silent for a good minute before Paul's voice returned, softer now, but no less resolute. "Look, kid… I know what I'm asking you to do is hard. Maybe even impossible. It goes against everything you've been taught, everything you've grown up believing. Betraying your own people—your system—it's not easy. But tell me, can you honestly sit there and do nothing while these kids die for a cause that isn't theirs?"

Lena didn't respond immediately, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped her console. She stared at the Para-RAID device on her desk, the weight of Paul's words crashing down on her.

Paul pressed on, sensing her hesitation. "You said it yourself, Handler-1. You know this is wrong. You've seen it with your own eyes. You've heard their stories. That's why you're here, isn't it? You don't want to be just another cog in the machine."

Lena's voice cracked when she finally spoke, barely above a whisper. "But what if I fail? What if I can't—"

"Then at least you'll have tried," Paul interrupted firmly. "Because sitting there and doing nothing? That's as good as pulling the trigger on them yourself. You're better than that. I know it, and deep down, so do you."

Her mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. The room around her seemed to blur as the gravity of her decision weighed heavily on her shoulders. Finally, she exhaled shakily, her voice steadier this time. "Alright. I'll do it. But you better make sure they stay alive. If I'm putting everything on the line, I need to know it's worth it."

Paul's tone softened again, but it carried a note of relief. "You've got my word. They'll make it out. And so will you. One step at a time, Handler-1."

The line went silent once more, leaving Lena alone with her thoughts and the monumental task ahead of her.

Shin turned to Paul, his expression grim, his voice low but urgent. "They're coming…"

Lena's voice crackled through the Para-RAID. "Who's coming?" she asked, irritation mixing with a growing sense of dread.

Paul didn't bother answering. Instead, he spun on his heel, addressing his crew with booming authority. "Alright, everyone! It's time to show these Robo-Cop looking motherfuckers what 130mm of depleted freedom tastes like!"

The NATO soldiers snapped into action. Noah sprinted toward the Challenger, barking orders to his crew as they scrambled aboard. The Bradley crew climbed back into their vehicle, engines roaring to life in unison. Matteo manned the turret of the Bradley, already swiveling to face the incoming threat, his finger hovering over the trigger of the 35mm autocannon.

Shin exchanged a glance with Raiden and Kurena. "Processors, prepare for—" he began, but his words were cut off as Paul's voice boomed through the comms.

"Negative, Processors. Leave the Spidies in the garage tonight," Paul ordered, his tone sharp and commanding. "You guys may be more agile, but we own the night."

Kurena frowned, gripping her rifle tightly. "But—" she started, only to be silenced by Paul again. He opened the hatch of the Abrams' turret, climbing halfway out.

"Nope. We got this," Paul said firmly. "Like you said yourselves, the Legion doesn't have any night-time capabilities. They're completely outmatched tonight. Sit tight and watch the show."

Lena, who had been listening in through the Para-RAID, couldn't suppress her concern. "Legion? At this time?!"

Shin's voice came through next, calm but carrying a grave undertone. "Nothing new, Handler-1. They've done this before—hit bases under cover of darkness. Every time, they overran the Processors who were resting and left nothing but ashes. The Legion might not have night vision, but they don't need it. They use Ameisen to guide their fire."

Paul interjected, his voice laced with confidence. "Good thing for us, Major, that we're not your average base guards. We've got night vision and thermal vision. Your Legion friends don't stand a chance."

Lena processed this in stunned silence. The stark contrast between Shin's calm pragmatism and Paul's unshakable confidence sent a chill down her spine. "Do you really think you can stop them alone?" she asked, her tone laced with skepticism.

Paul let out a dry laugh. "Major, let me put it this way: tonight, the Legion is stepping into our world. And in our world, we don't miss."

The faint rumble of Legion machines grew louder, the sound of mechanical legs scraping against the earth echoing through the still night. The NATO tanks revved their engines, the sound a growling promise of destruction.

Paul kept the Para-RAID online, providing a real-time feed of the operation to the Spearhead Squadron.

"Wardog to Iron Horse, we ditching the numbers, right? Over," Noah called out, his voice calm and measured, like he'd done this a thousand times before.

"Uhh… Affirmative, Wardog," Paul confirmed before addressing Elijah. "Warpig, you heard that? We're ditching the numbers. Over."

"Lima Charlie, Iron Horse," Elijah replied crisply, the sound of ammunition belts being prepared clinking in the background.

Meanwhile, the Spearhead Squadron had gathered in their dayroom—a space scattered with makeshift comforts like toys, books, and mismatched furniture. The room, more akin to a classroom than a military barracks, provided a rare reprieve from the grim reality of their lives.

Tonight, however, it was anything but ordinary. Every Processor in the room was huddled around a single table, listening intently to the comm chatter emanating from the Para-RAID and a Radio Paul had left them. The unfamiliar cadence of NATO's modern military lingo captivated them.

Raiden leaned back in his chair, arms crossed as a smirk tugged at his lips. "They talk like it's a whole different language."

"It practically is," Kurena muttered, her sharp ears picking up the nuances of the jargon. "Wardog? Warpig? Iron Horse? Sounds more like call signs from a movie."

Anju, seated beside her, tilted her head thoughtfully. "Still, it's… interesting. They sound so coordinated, like every word means something specific. Not a single wasted phrase."

Kaie, standing by the wall, nodded. "They're professionals. You can tell they've been through this before."

Shin sat quietly at the edge of the group, his expression unreadable as he listened. The rhythm of the NATO soldiers' communications was efficient, calculated, and almost surgical. It was a stark contrast to the chaotic, sometimes desperate exchanges the Eighty-Six were used to in their battles.

"All stations, Legion sighted. Three-four-three from my reference point. Got a big group there. At least niner of them. Over," Elijah called out, his tone sharp and professional as he peered through the thermal scope atop the Bradley.

"Solid copy, Warpig," Noah replied lazily, almost as if he were discussing the weather.

"Copy that, Warpig. Firing Loitering Munition M-220 Trinity," Paul chimed in, his tone steady but focused.

True to his word, a hatch on the rear of the Abrams' turret opened with a soft mechanical hum, revealing a tube that adjusted to a steep launch angle. Moments later, the drone launched into the night sky, its propeller activating mid-air with a sharp buzz. The camera onboard came online, feeding real-time footage directly to Paul's tactical display.

The M-220 Trinity Loitering Munition wasn't just any drone. It was a cutting-edge weapon system capable of carrying up to nine submunitions, each programmed to independently search and destroy targets with devastating precision. Developed in 2071 by Texas Instruments in collaboration with the Department of Defense, it had quickly proven itself during the counter-invasion of Europe.

What set the M-220 apart wasn't just its lethality but its resilience. Virtually impossible to jam, it was a nightmare for any electronic warfare systems the enemy might employ. How it achieved this was a closely guarded Pentagon secret, buried deep within classified files. The one thing known about it was that it utilized some kind of Quantum encryption tech mixed with an AI and some other systems.

The drone's camera feed displayed a growing group of Legion units—Ameisen and Grauwolf alike—clustered together in a ravine. "Looks like they're prepping for an attack," Paul muttered to himself, though the others could hear him over the comms.

"Confirming targets," he continued, directing the drone's software to identify and lock onto the most immediate threats. Within seconds, red squares framed each Legion unit, and the system pinged as the submunitions armed themselves.

"Payload armed," Paul announced. "Sending the Trinity downrange."

The M-220 suddenly split open, releasing its smaller, autonomous submunitions. The drone banked sharply, retreating to a safe altitude as the submunitions dived toward their targets.

Nine explosions lit up the night sky in rapid succession, the ground shaking faintly with each detonation. The sound echoed through the Para-RAIDs, cutting through the tension like a thunderclap.

"Splash Niner," Paul declared over the comms, his voice sharp and composed. The thermal feed showed the smoldering wreckage of nine obliterated Legion units, their twisted remains scattered across the battlefield.

"Driver, traverse left!" Paul barked, gripping the controls tightly. "Let's take them head-on. Loader, SABOT! Gunner, tank at eleven o'clock!"

Inside the Abrams, the crew sprang into action like a well-oiled machine.

"Sabot up!" Theodore, the loader, called out as he rammed the APFSDS round into the breach.

Identified!" Gregory, the gunner, replied, his hands steady on the controls as he adjusted the turret. The thermal sight locked onto the unmistakable silhouette of a Grauwolf MRLS.

The Legion forces were blissfully unaware of their impending doom, their systems focused elsewhere.

"Fire!" Paul barked.

The Abrams' 130mm smoothbore cannon roared alongside the Challenger's 130mm rifled gun. Two deadly projectiles—a SABOT round from the Abrams and a HEAT round from the Challenger—screamed toward their targets. The Grauwolf and a Löwe nearby erupted into fiery explosions upon impact, sending debris scattering across the battlefield.

"Target!" Paul called, satisfaction evident in his tone. He wasn't about to let up though. "Loader, SABOT! Gunner, tank left! Now!"

Theodore slammed another SABOT round into the breach, the metallic clunk echoing through the Abrams' interior. "SABOT UP!" Theo called, his tone straining from the yelling.

"Identified! Löwe, eleven o'clock!" Gregory confirmed, swinging the turret left to align with the new target.

"Fire!"

The Abrams spat another SABOT round, the Challenger's rifled gun firing just a fraction of a second later. The Löwen stood no chance as the two rounds found their mark in quick succession, punching through the armor and igniting the ammunition store in both Legion tanks. A massive fireball consumed the two vehicles, lighting up the night like a beacon of destruction.

Paul's satisfaction was tempered by the ever-looming reality of their situation. "Target, cease fire!" he barked, watching as the last Grauwolf went up in a cascade of secondary explosions, its missile payload cooking off in a dazzling but deadly display.

The Legion forces were now fully aware they were under attack. The problem? They still had no idea where the fire was coming from.

"Gunner, SABOT! Tank left!" Paul ordered sharply, scanning the horizon for the next threat.

"SABOT UP!" Theodore confirmed, slamming the next round into the breach and closing it with precision.

"Identified!" Gregory shouted, locking onto a Grauwolf's silhouette in his thermal display.

"FIRE!"

"On the way!" Gregory squeezed the trigger, and the Abrams roared. The SABOT round streaked across the night, finding its mark. The Grauwolf erupted in a brilliant explosion, the force sending pieces of its hull flying as the MRLS's entire missile payload detonated.

Not far away, Noah's Challenger lined up its next shot. "Loader, HEAT!"

"HEAT UP!" Jasper replied, steadying himself as the turret adjusted.

"Gunner, tank right! Fire when ready!"

The Challenger's rifled gun barked, the HEAT round punching into the side of an unsuspecting Löwe tank. Its turret flew off in a violent eruption of fire and shrapnel, the Legion machine obliterated in a single strike.

The Legion forces flailed in desperation, trying to pinpoint the source of the devastating attacks. But their lack of night vision was their undoing. In contrast, the NATO tanks operated with crystal-clear thermal imaging. Red outlines and diamonds marked every enemy target, and with each passing moment, another Legion unit fell to their relentless assault.

Still, the reality of their situation loomed large.

Paul keyed his mic. "All Stations, listen up! Ammo's almost Winchester. We've got clear vision, but the Legion just keeps coming. Stay sharp and conserve rounds. Make every shot count."

"Roger that," Noah replied, his voice grim. "We're keeping them guessing, but if we don't get resupplied soon, they'll overwhelm us by sheer numbers."

Elijah chimed in from the Bradley, his tone lighter but still focused. "Then we make 'em bleed for every meter they think they'll take."

Paul nodded to himself. "Alright, let's show these metal bastards what NATO steel can do. Keep firing, stay coordinated, and hold the line."

The NATO tanks dug in, their remaining rounds ripping through wave after wave of Legion units. It was a battle of attrition now, with the odds growing heavier against them with each passing second. But one thing was clear: the Legion would pay dearly for every moment they kept coming.

Back with the Processors, the atmosphere was tense as they sat together in their dimly lit day room, listening intently to the chatter coming through the Para-RAID and the Radio on the Table. The only light came from a faint flicker of a nearby lantern, highlighting their tired, grim faces. They had no maps, no ISR equipment, and no command center to coordinate anything—just their ears and imaginations painting the picture of the battle unfolding beyond the walls.

Kurena sat with her rifle across her lap, her fingers unconsciously tracing the barrel. "They're still fighting," she murmured, half to herself, as another burst of gunfire crackled through the connection. "How many Legion are out there?"

Raiden leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. "Doesn't matter how many. What matters is if they can hold out."

The faint voice of Paul came through, distorted by static but still recognizable. "Loader, SABOT! Gunner, Tank, bearing zero-eight-five!"

The sound of a tank shell roaring through the air and detonating followed soon after, making some of the Processors flinch despite the distance.

"Do they even have enough ammo?" Theo asked, his voice uneasy as he stared at the ground.

Lena's panting voice suddenly broke through the Para-RAID connection, startling the group. "What's happening? Are they holding their position?" Her tone was frantic, but beneath it was the unmistakable sound of heavy breathing and hurried footsteps.

"Handler-1?" Shin asked, his brows furrowing as he picked up on the unusual background noise. "Where are you?"

"I'm… trying to reach the Military Laboratory," Lena replied between gasps for air. The faint echo of her footsteps against the cobblestones carried through the connection. "I don't live close, and I didn't want to wait."

Raiden exchanged a glance with Theo and Kurena. "You're running through the city? Now? At night? Are you crazy?"

"I don't have time for that right now!" Lena snapped, her voice carrying a mix of urgency and irritation. "Just tell me—are they holding their ground?"

The Para-RAID buzzed with static before Paul's voice cut through, steady and authoritative. "Iron Horse here. Still in the fight, but the Legion's putting up one hell of a push. Nothing we can't handle, though. Tell your Major friend to take a deep breath."

"Captain—" Lena began, but Shin interjected.

"Handler-1," Shin said calmly but firmly, "you're not going to make it any faster by exhausting yourself before you even get there. Slow down."

"Firing another M-220!" Paul's voice echoed over the comms, calm but laced with focus.

A few moments later, the soft whoosh of the drone launching was followed by the steady hum of its propeller as it climbed into the sky. The feed from the Trinity's camera displayed multiple targets: Grauwolfs, Ameisens, and Löwes clustered together like ants on the move. Paul expertly designated targets one by one, the drone locking on to each with precision.

Seconds later, nine simultaneous explosions lit up the night sky, their fiery bursts illuminating the dark battlefield like a grim fireworks display. The shockwaves reverberated through the tanks, and the sound carried over the Para-RAID, momentarily drowning out everything else.

"Direct hit. Splash nine!" Paul reported, his tone steady but laced with satisfaction. "Wardog, keep pushing left flank. Warpig, maintain overwatch on the ridge."

"Solid copy," came Noah's calm reply, followed by Elijah's acknowledgment: "Roger that, Iron Horse. Ridge secure."

From their vantage points, the NATO tank crews watched as Legion units scrambled in confusion. The loitering munitions had obliterated their cohesion, and the remaining forces hesitated, unsure where the next strike would come from. But the Legion's numbers didn't dwindle—they only regrouped and kept coming.

"Damn, these bastards just don't quit," Gregory muttered inside the Abrams' turret, his finger resting on the trigger of the 130mm cannon.

"Good," Paul replied with a smirk. "Gives us more to shoot at. Loader, SABOT! Gunner, Löwe, eleven o'clock! Let's keep the party going!"

"On it!" Theodore called, slamming a fresh SABOT round into the breach.

"Identified!" Gregory locked the thermal sights onto the target.

"Fire!" Paul barked.

The Abrams roared again, rocking back, the SABOT round punching through the Löwe's armor like paper, sending its smoldering remains crashing into the rubble.

"Keep it up, lads!" Noah bellowed, his voice steady amidst the chaos. "Let's show these cunts what hell really looks like!"

"This is Warpig! We are engaging hostiles with TOW missiles!" Elijah's voice crackled over the Para-RAID, filled with urgency and resolve.

From their position on the ridge, the Bradley crew, acting as the team's eyes, had kept a low profile, scanning the battlefield with their night and thermal sights. But now, as the Legion units swarmed closer, they could no longer stay silent.

"Target acquired. Missile armed. Away! Away!" Matteo's voice followed, crisp and sharp.

The Bradley's turret shifted slightly as the missile launcher on its side swung open, revealing two loaded tubes. A plume of smoke erupted as the TOW missile launched into the night, its fiery trail streaking toward a distant Grauwolf.

The missile struck true, detonating the target in a fiery explosion that sent debris scattering across the battlefield. The radio lit up with Matteo's next report, "Target neutralized. Arming second Missile!"

Back at the Eighty-Six's makeshift base, confusion was evident among the gathered Processors. They exchanged bewildered glances, their focus bouncing between the voices on the Para-RAID and their fragmented understanding of the NATO soldiers' tactics.

"What's a TOW?" Kurena muttered, her brows furrowing. "And earlier… they called the Bradley's gun a Bushmaster. What kind of names are these?"

Anju, sitting nearby, shrugged as she tried to make sense of it. "It's like they have a name for everything. Weapons, tanks, missiles…"

The Para-RAID came alive with Lena's voice, cutting sharply through the idle chatter of the Eighty-Six. "I need a situation report. What is happening?" she demanded, her tone breathless and urgent. It was clear she'd been running, and the strain in her voice betrayed her exhaustion. "I'm almost there."

Lena pushed the heavy entrance door open, its creak echoing unnervingly through the dimly lit halls of the building. The eerie quiet sent a shiver down her spine. No one in San Magnolia ever expected a Legion attack at night, least of all in the northern districts. The assumption was always the same. The Legion relied on external generators and solar panels for power. At night, their batteries could only sustain operations for so long before requiring a recharge. The consensus was that the risk of a nocturnal offensive was too high for them to attempt it.

Yet here she was, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she hurried through the empty corridors. The silence was unnerving, amplifying every sound she made—the soft tap of her boots, the faint rustle of her coat, her labored breathing.

She muttered under her breath, "Idiots… all of them. Thinking the Legion won't adapt or find a way around their limitations."

Her mind raced as she approached the stairwell, her legs burning with the effort of the climb. The Para-RAID clipped to her belt buzzed faintly, a constant reminder of the battle raging just outside the Grand Mur. Lena couldn't help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her—her people's arrogance, their misplaced complacency, and the lives of those she had come to respect, all hinging on the NATO forces and the Spearhead Squadron holding their ground.

As she reached the top floor, she threw open the door to the control room, her heart pounding. The dim glow of the monitors illuminated the space, and the familiar hum of equipment brought a faint sense of normalcy to the chaos in her mind.

"Alright," she whispered to herself, steeling her resolve. "Time to figure out what's really going on out there."

Lena's fingers trembled as she typed, the hum of the computer system filling the room with a low, mechanical drone. She initiated the voice identification protocol, her voice firm but strained.

"Major Vladilena Milizé. Target: District-86, Zone Zero-One-Zero."

The monitors flickered to life, and the data feed began pouring in. Lena's breath caught in her throat as the battlefield materialized before her.

The thermal and radar signatures of the three NATO vehicles stood out prominently, their positions unwavering as they held an imaginary line. Their defense was methodical and relentless. The two main battle tanks—both marked as Unkwon by the Radar system—unleashed devastating firepower, their turrets swiveling with mechanical precision. Further back, the IFV acted as a sentinel, providing overwatch and firing TOW missiles at critical targets.

In front of them, the display was a sea of red—a horrifying mass of Legion units closing in from all directions. The density of enemy signatures was overwhelming, a seemingly endless tide of mechanical death pressing forward.

Each advancing Legion unit was swiftly obliterated. The Abrams' 130mm smoothbore and the Challenger's rifled cannon fired in tandem, their SABOT and HEAT rounds ripping through Grauwölfe and Löwen alike. High-caliber machine guns raked across legues of Ameisen, reducing them to flaming wreckage.

Lena's stomach churned as she watched. It was a sight of pure horror and grim magnificence. The NATO tanks acted like unyielding sentries, intercepting and destroying every Legion unit that dared to breach their line. The thermal feed highlighted the explosions that lit up the night, each one accompanied by the blinding flash of cannon fire or the streak of a missile.

Her hand instinctively reached for the Para-RAID, her voice cracking slightly as she connected to the network.

"Paul… Captain Keller… What are you seeing? Are you—are you holding?" she asked, her tone wavering between awe and dread.

The Para-RAID hissed to life, and Paul's voice came through, calm and focused despite the chaos.

"Handler-1, we're not holding. We're winning. But the bastards aren't letting up. They keep coming, like someone turned on an assembly line and forgot to switch it off."

Lena stared at the screen, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the desk. "How much longer can you hold?" she whispered.

A few tense seconds of silence followed as Paul checked the ammunition supply displayed on his console. His voice came through the Para-RAID, calm but carrying an undercurrent of urgency.

"We're running low on shells to throw at these bastards. Still got enough 30mm for the Grauwölfe and Ameisen, but those Löwen are gonna be a real pain. The thirty's never going through their frontal armor."

Lena's grip on the desk tightened, her nails digging into the wood as she stared at the monitor. The red signatures of the advancing Legion units seemed endless, a suffocating wave of destruction that only grew closer to breaching the NATO tanks' line.

"Options?" she asked, her voice strained.

Paul's voice crackled through the Para-RAID again, this time with a grim undertone. "I kind of underestimated their numbers. We probably need the Processors to lend us a hand here. Else, we're gonna have to retreat. Our rear armor can't take a hit from a 120mm SABOT."

Lena's heart sank as she stared at the display, her eyes darting between the overwhelming swarm of Legion units and the thinning ammunition reserves of the NATO tanks. She clenched her fists, knowing full well that a retreat would leave the base and its occupants defenseless.

Shin's voice cut through the tension. "Processors are ready. Just say the word."

Paul hesitated, his voice carrying the weight of the decision. "Alright, but don't go full Rambo on me. You guys coordinate with Warpig's crew via the radio I gave you. We'll hold the line as long as we can."

Before anyone could respond, Noah's voice burst through the comms like a battle cry. "Oh hell no, lads and lassies! We ain't meeting our maker today. Not while I have a bloody say in the matter!"

The Challenger roared to life, sending another HEAT shell screaming into the side of an unsuspecting Löwe. The explosion lit up the battlefield, debris flying as the Legion tank was reduced to a smoldering wreck.

"Direct hit! That's how it's done!" Noah cheered, his voice brimming with adrenaline as the Challenger repositioned for another shot.

The Processors, listening through their radios, exchanged glances. Raiden smirked, muttering under his breath, "These guys are something else."

Lena, now fully immersed in the chaos unfolding on her monitors, couldn't help but feel a sliver of hope as she watched the NATO tanks continue to hold their ground. "Processors, assist them. Make sure you all get out of this alive!" she commanded, her voice firm.

"Understood, Handler-1," Shin replied as the Eighty-Six mobilized, their Juggernauts coming to life one by one.

And one after the other, the Juggernauts rumbled out of the hangar, their mechanical legs clanking against the concrete floor as they moved into formation. Faint red sensors glowed ominously from the noses of the machines, casting an eerie light across the dim battlefield. It was a chilling sight, a sea of red dots moving as one, painting the darkness like a ghostly swarm.

Shin led the charge, his Juggernaut at the forefront, its sleek frame cutting through the night with precision. "Processors, stick to your squadmates and maintain formation," his voice came over the comms, calm yet commanding. "Gunslinger and Blackdog, take your platoons and move up to the ridge where Warpig is stationed. Coordinate with them for fire support. The rest, on me. We're moving down to reinforce Iron Horse." His tone was steady, collected, and unwavering, as if he had done this a thousand times before.

Lena, monitoring the operation from her station, couldn't help but be struck by the sheer authority in Shin's voice. His orders flowed effortlessly, each command purposeful and decisive. For a moment, she felt a pang of insecurity—watching Shin lead with such precision made her wonder if her role as a Handler was even necessary. It was clear that this squadron had long since learned to operate autonomously under Shin's leadership.

The Eighty-Six obeyed without hesitation, the Juggernauts splitting into groups and moving with mechanical grace.

Kurena's voice crackled over the Para-RAID. "Undertaker, how are we supposed to provide fire support here? It's pitch black!"

Before Shin could respond, Paul's confident voice broke through the comms. "We got this! Warpig is equipped with a mortar system in the back, they got illumination rounds. We'll light up the whole damn battlefield for you."

Elijah turned to Matteo and gave him a firm nod. "Take David and set up the mortar until the artillery guys arrive. I'll handle overwatch."

Matteo returned the nod. "Got it." Without hesitation, he climbed down from his seat in the turret and dropped into the troop compartment. The dimly lit interior of the Bradley was cramped, but Matteo moved with practiced efficiency, grabbing a 60mm mortar tube from its secured hook on the wall.

He turned to Corporal David Anderson, the driver, who was still at his station, peering out at the battlefield. Matteo gave him a light tap on the shoulder. "Yo. Mortar time!"

David sighed, cracking a small grin. "Figures. Can't let you have all the fun, can I?" He quickly unbuckled himself and headed to the back, grabbing the base plate and bipod before heading out the opened hatch.

David worked swiftly, his movements fluid and precise. The soft grass beneath their feet dampened their steps as he finished mounting the bipod, ensuring it was secure. He gave the setup a firm shake to double-check its stability. "All set," Matteo called, giving the equipment a quick once-over before looking to his partner.

David nodded sharply. "I'll get the rounds!" he replied, his tone clipped but focused.

He jogged back to the Bradley, retrieving a case of 60mm mortar rounds, each meticulously organized and labeled. Hoisting the box, he hurried back to Matteo, placing it beside the mortar. Popping the latches open, he revealed a mix of illumination and HE rounds inside. "Got the goods," David said, smirking.

At the same time, the rhythmic thumping of the Juggernauts marching toward the battlefield echoed through the night, accompanied by distant explosions caused by the Challenger and Abrams. Their gunfire lit up the dark skies in fleeting bursts, each blast marking the destruction of another Legion unit.

One of the Juggernauts pulled up next to the mortar position and came to a halt. The hatch opened, revealing Kurena's fiery red hair. She gave Matteo and David a sharp nod in greeting, her expression determined.

Matteo straightened up, pointing toward the Abrams' position in the distance. "Everything down there is hostile," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. "Get your guys ready to let it rain as soon as we light up the area. Got it?"

Kurena returned his nod and maneuvered her Juggernaut into position beside the Bradley, her sensors scanning the darkness. Opening her Para-RAID channel, her voice rang out clearly. "6th Platoon, prepare to fire on Legion units as soon as we have light!"

Daiya's voice came through a moment later, calm but resolute. "This is 5th Platoon. We'll engage in the follow-up barrage. Ready when you are."

"Copy that," Kurena acknowledged, her hands steady on the controls as she aimed her weapons. The soft hum of her Juggernaut's systems intensified, preparing for the battle to come.

Matteo returned to the mortar, exchanging a glance with David. "Let's make this count."

David smirked, slotting another illumination round into the tube. "Always."

A solid thump echoed through the air as the mortar round was launched, its trajectory tracing an arc toward the dense forest. For a moment, an eerie silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the faint mechanical whirring of the Juggernauts and the NATO vehicles.

Then, the round exploded midair, flooding the area with a blinding white light. The sudden illumination revealed the positions of multiple Legion units spread throughout the forest—and, to Noah's horror, the Challenger standing fully exposed.

"We're compromised! Gunner! HEAT! Tank!" Noah screamed, panic clawing at his voice.

"HEAT up!" the loader bellowed, his hands a blur as he readied the shell. The gunner, operating on sheer instinct, didn't wait for Noah's confirmation. He pulled the trigger, unleashing a deafening roar as the Challenger's 130mm gun recoiled violently. The entire tank shook under the force of the shot.

The shell raced through the air, striking its target with pinpoint accuracy. The impact obliterated the Legion tank's turret in a fiery explosion. Before the smoke even cleared, the Challenger's breech slammed open, and the loader deftly slid another HEAT shell into place, followed by the propellant.

"Up!" the loader shouted, his voice carrying the adrenaline-fueled urgency of the moment. The Challenger's turret swiveled, scanning for its next target amidst the chaos revealed by the sudden light.

On the ridge, the Juggernauts' 57mm cannons roared to life, their muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness like bursts of lightning. Each shot was precise, targeting the vulnerable top armor of the Legion units. Explosions erupted across the battlefield as the shells found their marks, tearing through enemy formations.

"6th Platoon, let it rain!" Kurena ordered, her voice carrying an edge of determination through the Para-RAID.

The ridge became a storm of fire and steel, with the 57mm cannons unleashing a relentless barrage. Legion units fell one after another, their sleek mechanical forms crumpling under the onslaught.

Another thump resonated as the mortar launched another illumination round. The round burst mid-air, bathing a new section of the battlefield in searing white light. This time, it revealed the Abrams, its imposing silhouette standing out starkly against the chaos.

Inside the Abrams, Paul barked orders as he assessed the situation. "Driver, reverse left! Get us behind cover! Gunner, take out the closest threat—now!"

"Identified!" Greg shouted, adjusting the thermal scope to lock onto a charging Löwe.

"SABOT up!" Theodore confirmed, ramming another round into the breach.

"Fire!" Paul commanded.

The gun roared, and the SABOT round screamed through the air, puncturing the Löwe's frontal armor with ease. The explosion lit up the night sky, but the Abrams had no time to celebrate.

"Shit! He's looking at us!" Paul shouted as the Löwe's turret swiveled, locking onto the Abrams.

The tank lurched backward, maneuvering to retreat from the exposed position while continuing to fire. The battlefield was chaos—a deadly dance of destruction as NATO and Processor forces fought to stem the Legion's relentless advance.

"Fire!" Paul barked as a shell from the Löwe streaked toward them, slamming into the Abrams' cheek armor. The round deflected harmlessly, ricocheting into a nearby tree with a loud crack.

"On the way!" Greg shouted back, firing a SABOT round in response. The uranium dart screamed toward the Löwe, clipping one of its legs but failing to disable it. The tank staggered but kept moving, its turret adjusting for another shot.

"Reengage!" Paul yelled, his voice rising with urgency. "He's still looking at us! Fire, NOW!"

"SABOT up!" Theodore called, ramming another round into the breach and slamming it shut.

"On the way!" Greg shouted again, squeezing the trigger. The SABOT round flew true this time, piercing the Löwe's center mass and detonating its internal systems. The tank erupted in a fiery explosion, debris scattering across the battlefield.

"Target down! Cease fire!" Paul confirmed, his voice steady despite the tension crackling through the air.

From the ridge, the 5th and 6th Platoons opened fire again, their Juggernauts' 57mm cannons tearing through Legion units with deadly precision. The coordinated barrage destroyed one Legion target after another, providing critical covering fire for Paul's Abrams and Noah's Challenger as they repositioned to engage new threats.

The Bradley, positioned strategically between the two platoons, roared to life. Its 35mm Bushmaster autocannon spat out a relentless stream of shells, ripping through unsuspecting Grauwölfe and Ameisen alike. Each burst from the autocannon sent shrapnel and debris flying, neutralizing the advancing Legion forces with brutal efficiency.

Another thump echoed across the battlefield as another illumination mortar round burst high in the air, bathing the area in blinding white light. The sudden illumination revealed more Legion units scrambling below, their ranks already thinned by the relentless assault from the NATO vehicles.

The Juggernauts on the ridge capitalized on the light, their cannons roaring as they rained precision fire down on the disoriented Legion forces. One by one, Grauwölfe, Ameisen, and Löwe tanks exploded into flaming wrecks. The Legion, lacking any night-vision capabilities, remained oblivious to the exact source of the devastating firepower.

Half their battle force was already decimated by the sheer power and coordination of the NATO vehicles. With the Processors now in the fray, the tide of the battle shifted even further. The red blips on Lena's radar dwindled rapidly as Juggernauts and NATO tanks continued their ruthless onslaught.

Lena stared at the live radar feed, a mix of awe and disbelief washing over her. The teamwork, precision, and overwhelming firepower displayed by both the NATO forces and the Processors were unlike anything she had ever seen. Her hands trembled as the reality of the situation settled in. This was no ordinary battle—it was an annihilation.

"Legion Units have been pushed back at Points Forty and Sixty," Lena reported, her voice tinged with astonishment as she continued to watch the radar feed. The sheer precision and coordination between the Processors and NATO forces had turned the tide of battle in their favor.

"Understood, Handler-1," Shin responded over the Para-RAID, his tone as detached and matter-of-fact as always. "First Platoon and Third Platoon are moving to mop up Legion Units at Point Fifty. Second Platoon and Fifth Platoon, proceed to clear the Legion Units at Point Twenty."

Lena could hear the faint sounds of Juggernauts moving through the Para-RAID link, their mechanical hums blending with the chatter of coordinated commands. Despite the chaos unfolding across the battlefield, Shin's voice remained calm, a stark contrast to the intensity of the situation.

She couldn't help but marvel at how seamlessly the Processors operated under Shin's leadership. While Lena had always admired their resilience, this battle demonstrated their true skill and discipline in the face of overwhelming odds.

"Stay focused," Shin continued, addressing his squadrons with the precision of a seasoned commander. "Do not overextend. Regroup once the sectors are clear."

"Understood!" came the unified response from the Processors, their voices filled with determination as they moved to carry out his orders.

"Warpig, give these daredevils some light! Fire the rounds towards my tracers!" Paul ordered, his tone carrying both astonishment and urgency.

Elijah, perched atop the Bradley, immediately caught on to Paul's plan and relayed the command through his comms. "Matteo, redirect fire towards the tracers!"

"Copy that!" Matteo replied, crouching by the mortar as he peeked over the ridge, waiting for the signal.

A moment later, a streak of red erupted from the Abrams as Paul fired the M250 machine gun mounted atop the turret, its .338 tracers cutting through the darkness like fiery beacons. The glowing rounds zipped toward Shin's position, marking the way. Another burst followed, this time directed toward Raiden's two platoons.

"Tracers spotted. Rounds on the way!" Matteo called, aligning the mortar toward the marked areas.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Four mortar rounds launched into the sky in quick succession. Two aimed to light Shin's advance, and two toward Raiden's. Moments later, bright flares erupted in the sky, bathing the battlefield in stark, white light. The once-shrouded Legion forces were now fully exposed, their positions illuminated for all to see.

Shin immediately sprang into action, activating his High-Frequency Blades and arming his 57mm cannon as he sped ahead of his two platoons. The dense forest provided ample cover, with the thick tree trunks redirecting or absorbing the small-caliber rounds fired by nearby Ameisen. Pulling hard to the left, Shin fired a precise 57mm AP shell, obliterating an Ameise in a single shot.

Suddenly, a Löwe locked onto his position, firing a SABOT shell that grazed his canopy as Shin barely managed to dodge. Reacting without hesitation, he fired his wire anchors into the treetops, pulling himself up for a perfect angle. From his elevated position, he fired an AP shell straight into the unarmored top of the Löwe, triggering a fiery explosion as the tank was destroyed.

Below, Theo and his platoon advanced past the smoking wreckage, engaging a group of Ameisen approaching from the side. The illumination rounds still burned brightly overhead, lighting up the battlefield. The squad worked methodically, their movements precise as they took down the Legion forces one by one.

However, lurking just outside the reach of the light, a Löwe had positioned itself strategically, its sensors scanning the scene. Ignored amidst the chaos, it tracked Theo's platoon before spotting an even more tantalizing target—Shin, still suspended in midair. His winch had malfunctioned, leaving him vulnerable like a sitting duck.

The Löwe fired its SABOT shell, narrowly missing Shin but striking Louie Kino's Juggernaut dead center in the cockpit. Louie was killed instantly, his machine collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

"Fafnir is down!" Haruto shouted, panic seeping into his voice as he and Touma scrambled for cover. Shin, still dangling from his malfunctioning winch, was an easy target, and the Löwe adjusted its aim for a killing blow.

Before it could fire, a thunderous crack split the air, and the Löwe erupted into flames. A 130mm uranium-tipped SABOT shell had torn through its turret, utterly destroying it.

"We got you, kid!" Paul's voice came through the Para-RAID, calm but firm. The Abrams had delivered the lifesaving shot, its barrel still smoking as Paul and his crew moved to engage the remaining Legion.

Shin exhaled, his usual stoic demeanor barely cracking under the weight of what had just transpired. "Acknowledged," he muttered, already scanning for the next threat. Above him, the illumination rounds began to dim, their light flickering as the fight raged on.

On the other side of the battlefield, Raiden and his two platoons pushed through the dense forest, methodically clearing Legion units. The fight was grueling, and the Legion was relentless in their assault.

Suddenly, a sharp explosion echoed through the trees, followed by another. Two of Raiden's Processors were immobilized as their Juggernauts were struck in their legs, rendering them effectively useless. Smoke and sparks erupted from the damaged machines as the trapped pilots frantically tried to assess their situation.

"I need two on the right flank, now!" Raiden barked into the Para-RAID, his tone commanding and urgent.

"On my way!" Kaie responded without hesitation, her voice steady despite the chaos. She maneuvered her Juggernaut through the dense underbrush, motioning for Kujo to follow her. The two flanked swiftly, weaving between the trees to gain a better angle on the Legion units.

As they advanced, a Grauwolf emerged from behind a cluster of trees, its missile pods swiveling to lock onto their position. Without missing a beat, Kaie fired her 57mm cannon, the shot tearing through the Grauwolf's side armor and detonating its payload. The explosion lit up the forest, scattering debris and forcing the nearby Ameisen to momentarily halt.

"Nice shot, Kirschblüte!" Kujo called out, his own Juggernaut firing a burst of 12.7mm rounds into a group of Ameisen, shredding through their formations.

A Löwe suddenly emerged from the shadows, its massive frame glinting in the dim light provided by the fading illumination rounds. The smoking barrel made it clear this was the same unit responsible for the earlier Mobility Kills. Its turret swiveled menacingly, locking onto Kaie and Kujo, both of whom froze momentarily as the threat fully registered.

"Damn it, we're screwed!" Kujo muttered, gripping his controls tightly.

Kaie quickly assessed the situation. "Front armor's too thick—our rounds won't do squat!" she yelled, trying to find cover, but the Löwe already had them dead in its sights.

Before the Löwe could fire, a thunderous explosion rang out. A shell impacted its turret from above, punching straight through its unarmored top and detonating within. The Löwe erupted in a fiery explosion, its wrecked frame collapsing lifelessly to the ground.

"Hehe, Löwe scrapped!" Raiden's voice crackled through the Para-RAID, carrying a tone of satisfaction.

Kaie and Kujo glanced up to see Raiden's Juggernaut perched in the trees, its 57mm cannon still smoking from the shot. He had employed the same maneuver as Shin, using his wire anchors to gain the high ground and strike at the Löwe's vulnerable turret top.

"You're welcome, Kirschblüte," Raiden added smugly, lowering himself back to the ground with the help of his anchors.

"Thanks for the save, Wehrwolf," Kaie replied, her voice a mix of relief and slight irritation. "You could've done it sooner, though!"

"Wanted to make you sweat for a second" Raiden quipped as he returned to leading his platoons.

Then the transmission that ended it all finally came, crackling through the Para-RAID and filling the ears of every NATO tanker, Processor, and Handler. "Legion units have been pushed back on all fronts. They are retreating…" Lena's voice, though steady, carried an unmistakable strain, as if she had been physically present on the battlefield herself.

The relief was palpable across the comms. Raiden sighed heavily, leaning back in his cockpit as he surveyed the aftermath. "Finally," he muttered.

Paul's voice broke the silence, full of triumph but still tinged with exhaustion. "Iron Horse to all stations. Good work, everyone. Stand down and regroup. Wardog, gather the wounded Processors near your position. Warpig, keep overwatch while we consolidate."

The Abrams slowed to a halt, its turret swiveling to scan the field one last time before Gregory powered down the weapon systems. "About time," he muttered, leaning back in his seat.

Up on the ridge, Elijah's Bradley crew exchanged relieved nods as Matteo packed up the mortar, and David double-checked their ammo stores. "We really pulled it off, huh?" David said, exhaling sharply.

"Yeah," Matteo replied, but his voice was laced with tension. "But this ain't over yet."

Meanwhile, down in the thick of the forest, Shin's cold, detached voice came through. "Processors, confirm all platoons' status. Report any casualties or losses."

Raiden chimed in, his voice tired but steady. "We've got two immobilized Juggernauts but no deaths in my platoon. How about you, Undertaker?"

Shin paused before replying. "Fafnir is down. One KIA." His tone remained devoid of emotion, but Lena could feel the weight of those words pressing on her chest like a physical burden.

What followed, however, was entirely unexpected by the Processors.

Through the Para-RAID, Paul's voice crackled to life, not directed at them, but at his own men. "Guys, we held the line. But the kids lost one…" His tone, normally sharp and confident, was heavy with sorrow, a twinge of sadness rippling through every word.

There was a brief silence, and then, from the NATO crews, a unified response echoed through the comms, loud and clear. "Peace to the fallen!"

The Processors froze at the words, the solemnity catching them off guard. They hadn't expected such a gesture, not from these outsiders who seemed so far removed from the harsh reality they lived every day. A strange warmth swelled in their chests, a mix of astonishment and a quiet, unfamiliar gratitude.

Raiden broke the silence among the Processors, his voice softer than usual. "They've never even really knew us… or Fafnir."

Kurena wiped a stray tear from her cheek, her lips pressed into a tight line. "They don't need to," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lena, still seated at her terminal, felt a lump forming in her throat. For the first time in a long while, the cold, mechanical nature of war felt… human. These soldiers—foreign and unfamiliar—had shown empathy in a way her own people never had. It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything.

Shin managed to fix the winch and lowered himself just as the Abrams rumbled into view, its powerful engine purring as it came to a halt. Both hatches—the Juggernaut's canopy and the Abrams' commander's hatch—opened simultaneously. From each vehicle, their leaders emerged: Shin, calm and cold, and Paul, visibly focused, each moving with a purpose but for entirely different reasons.

Paul immediately began unspooling heavy towing cables, intending to hook the destroyed Juggernaut to the Abrams and pull it back to base, along with the remains of the deceased Processor. His expression was grim but determined, treating the task with the respect it deserved.

Shin, however, had a different goal in mind. His pistol was drawn as he approached the wrecked Juggernaut. His steps were measured, his face an unreadable mask.

Paul noticed the Undertaker's intent too late. "Wait, no!" he shouted, dropping the cables and starting to move toward Shin.

But before Paul could reach him, the shot rang out, a sharp, deafening crack that cut through the forest like a knife. The sound echoed into a heavy silence, as if the world itself held its breath.

Paul stopped in his tracks, his eyes wide as he stared at Shin, who stood motionless, his pistol still in hand. The silence was suffocating, broken only by the faint whisper of leaves in the wind.

The reality of what had just happened hit Paul like a sledgehammer. He dropped to his knees, horrified, his hands trembling as he reached for the cables he'd abandoned. "Why…" he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Why did you…"

Shin turned slowly, his expression unchanged, his voice flat and unyielding. "We don't leave our dead to the enemy. This is how we honor them."

Paul's gaze flicked between Shin and the shattered remains of the Juggernaut, his emotions boiling over. "What? He was already gone!" Paul screamed, his voice cracking under the strain of disbelief and anger.

Shin's cold, unwavering eyes met Paul's fiery glare. "Exactly. He was gone. That's why I had to do it."

Paul rose to his feet, his fists clenched as he stepped closer to Shin. "You didn't have to do anything! We could've brought him back, given him a proper burial. Let him rest with dignity, for God's sake!" His voice was trembling now, a mix of fury and desperation.

Shin remained unshaken, his tone as calm as ever. "Dignity? To leave him behind as a trophy for the Legion? They don't just kill; they take us and make us part of them. I won't allow that."

Paul froze at those words, the full weight of their meaning sinking in. He glanced back at the wreckage of the Juggernaut, the hole in the canopy, and the lifeless remains of the Processor. The realization hit him like a freight train. The Legion didn't just destroy—they assimilated, desecrating what was left of their victims.

"This… this is what you've been fighting against?" Paul's voice was quieter now, filled with disbelief and a hint of regret.

Shin holstered his pistol, his expression unchanging. "This is the reality of our war. We don't get the luxury of burials or memorials. We ensure that our comrades remain human, even in death."

Lena sat frozen at her console, listening to the exchange over the Para-RAID. Shin's cold, calculated tone and Paul's horrified realization reverberated in her mind. The weight of their words hit her harder than she could have ever anticipated.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, falling freely onto her uniform. She didn't bother wiping them away. The pain, the loss, and the cold reality of what these young fighters endured pressed on her chest like a physical weight.

Lena's trembling hand reached up to touch her Para-RAID device as if she could somehow reach through it, comfort them, or even share the unbearable burden they carried. She felt a lump in her throat as she listened to the subdued voices on the other end.

Shin crouched by the shattered remains of the Juggernaut, pulling out his knife. With deliberate movements, he carved out a piece of the broken machine's armor and tucked it into his pocket. His expression remained unreadable, but his voice carried the weight of his actions. "This is so at least we won't forget them."

Paul watched, his helmet tilted slightly as if in respect. He nodded solemnly. "Lest we forget…" he murmured. "Back in our world, we have a memorial hall for this sort of thing. A place to remember those who gave the Ultimate sacrifice. You guys… you don't have that because…"

"Because of the Republic," Shin finished flatly, his voice devoid of anger but heavy with resignation. He glanced at Paul. "It's a long story, but I'll explain everything when we're back at the base. It's… complicated."

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken words, grief, and a faint sense of understanding. Lena, still listening in, pressed her hand harder against her Para-RAID, as if she could somehow bridge the gulf between them all.

She whispered into the quiet room, unheard by anyone but herself, "I won't forget. Not anymore. I promise."

---

Current Character and Vehicles:

Iron Horse-1 (M1A5 Abrams):

Captain John Paul Keller—Iron Horse-1 VC

Lance Corporal Gregory Sampson—Iron Horse-1 Gunner

Specialist Felix Erickson—Iron Horse-1 Driver

Private First Class Theodore Meyer—Iron Horse-1 Loader

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Wardog-2 (Challenger 4):

Lieutenant Noah Piers—Wardog-2 VC

Warrant Officer Jack Leeman—Wardog-2 Gunner

Corporal Arthur Williams—Wardog-2 Driver

Lance Corporal Jasper Robinson—Wardog-2 Loader

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Kaiser-1 (KF-51 Panther):

Feldwebel Adrian Koch—Kaiser-1 VC

Unteroffizier Emma Neuman—Kaiser-1 Gunner

Obergefreiter Otto Klein—Kaiser-1 Driver

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Warpig-3 (M7 Bradley II):

Gunnery Sergeant Elijah Jones—Warpig-3 VC

Sergeant Mateo Miller—Warpig-3 Gunner

Corporal David Anderson—Warpig-3 Driver

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Eighty-Six Spearhead Squadron (M1A4 Juggernaut):

Captain Shinei Nouzen "Undertaker" "Reaper" 1st Platoon & Squadon Leader

First Lieutenant Raiden Shuga "Wehrwolf" 2nd Platoon Leader & XO to Spearhead

Second Lieutenant Anju Emma "Snow Witch"

Second Lieutenant Kurena Kukumila "Gunslinger" 6th Platoon Leader

Second Lieutenant Theoto Rikka "Laughing Fox" 3rd Platoon Leader

Second Lieutenant Daiya Irma "Black Dog" 5th Platoon Leader

Second Lieutenant Kaie Tanyia "Kirschblüte" 4th Platoon Leader

Ensign Kujo Nico "Sirius"

Ensign Haruto Keats "Falke"

Ensign Io Dodanthe "Argos"

Ensign Ochi Anton "Gladiator"

Ensign Shuri Gilith "Dendroaspis"

Ensign Kariya Rohga "La Bete"

Ensign Hariz Senya "Cato'Nine"

Ensign Mina Shiroka "Artemis"

Ensign Matthew Nanaki "Walpurgis"

Ensign Kuroto Hinie "Manticore"

Ensign Lecca Lin "Burnt Tayl"

Ensign Tohzan Sasha "Gunmetslstorm"

Ensign Mikuri Cairo "Leukosia"

Ensign Myna Yatomika "March Hare"

Ensign Chise Authen "Griffin"

Ensign Touma Sauvy "Helianthus"

Ensign Louie Kino "Fafnir" K.I.A.

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San Magnolia:

Brigadier General Jérôme Karlstahl

Major Vladilena Milizé

Major Cecilia Amaranth

Technical Lieutenant Victor Lysander

Technical Lieutenant Henrietta von Penrose

Sergeant Elliot Fainwright

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Alive: 43

K.I.A.: 1

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Author's note:

I hope y'all aren't too confused lol. I did a little time jump here to explain the sudden and violent escape of the Panther crew. The horrors of war have claimed the first sole... Lest we Forget.

I hope you liked the chapter. See you guys in the next one!