In the forests, it seemed as though gunfighting never ceased. Shouldering an ancient light machine gun of eastern make, a rusted-out hunk of shit that was luckily still functioning, a Rebel clad in faded camouflage apparel squeezed the trigger. The old belts of 7,62x54mm ammo clinked out while the gun chugged along, green tracers flying into the forest as mud sprayed onto a face as old and damaged as the weapon itself.

Stuck in a ditch, an outpost of retreating Resistance members that were folding in with local cells to depart from the Outlands were fighting for their lives, surrounded by a platoon of approximately forty OTAs. The Gunner rhetorically demanded, "What the FUCK pissed these sons-of-bitches off so bad that they're deploying entire Platoons of OTAs out into the wire!?" while sweeping the area ahead with lead.

"Whatever did owes me a new vest!" Called out another of his team-mates, dropping the spent magazine from his MP7 SMG and slamming a fresh one home. He stood up, aimed down the holographic sight, then his head proceeded to violently explode, corpse tumbling back off the rock he was using as a perch as his blood stained the water running through the ditch.

"Fuck! Tomita's down!" Barked the team's Sniper, a woman of the same age as the gunner with greying, dirty blond hair. She shouldered the scoped weapon, which fired the same caliber of round as the man's GPMG, then snapped off a shot toward a white-clad Overwatch Elite. The round struck the chest plate.

"Hammer. Damage report?" One of the OTA troopers beside the Soldier requested as he took cover behind a tree, rapid-firing his AR-2 at the enemy. Pulse bolts struck in front of the sniper, causing her and the Gunner beside her to take cover. The ground turned to dark glass as the rounds boiled away layer upon layer.

The OTA leader reported, her voice monotone, "Minimal damage sustained. Armor took the hit," before she put her hand up to her ear and spoke, "Hammer to Razor and Scar. Advance. Tighten the noose and prepare Extractors, then excise Anticitizens. Extreme prejudice," before firing her own rifle and nailing another of the ten surviving rebels square in the throat. The round burned out his trachea and the spine behind it and the soldier fell.

"And there goes Karl," The Gunner mumbled as he reloaded his MG with a fresh box and belt. He grit his teeth as the old rails of the gun failed to fit the belt box due to the rust. He grit his teeth, punched it home and said, "Motherfucker!" before standing up, shouldering the gun and firing in a sweeping arc ahead of them.

Bullets zipped through the trees ahead, striking another OTA trooper three times, staggering him. One round punctured something important, the heavily-armored Overwatch soldier crumpling, dead, and landing face-first into the mud, his system flatlining. 'Hammer' let out a scoff, uncharacteristic for herself, then called out, "Victor, Victoria. Cease your fire, the area is clear… You're safe," her voice flat, but discernibly different than a normal OTA Elite's.

The two Rebels, both soldiers of the Seven-Hour War, both ancient in terms of service life with the Resistance, froze, then eyes widening. The girl whispered, "No fucking way…" and shook her head, "There ain't no fucking way…" only to stand up and shoot, crying out, "DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE USE HER VOICE, YOU FREAKS!"

"Assessment confirms theory:Targets susceptible to original voice. Aggravation may lead to success… Rapier, on me," The Elite spoke just after the bullet zipped by her head, all while looking at the trooper that had asked if she was fine. She aimed straight for the Sniper's head and fired, but her comrade dragged her down into cover, instead causing the rounds to strike the back of one of their comrades that was trying to run away. It was still a kill, the OTA thought as she knelt. She detached the magazine of the Pulse Rifle and locked in another one as her Opticals picked up friendly units moving in from the rear.

Moments later, gunfire erupted from the GPMG operator, rounds cutting chunks out of the trees that the rest of the Overwatch forces were advancing from. Hammer stood back up, shouldering her rifle and squeezing the trigger the moment she saw a hint of the human's body. Two of the shots missed, but the third singed the man's shoulder, causing him to yelp.

Hammer called out again, "Surrender… You'll be safer with us. I promise."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Snapped the sharpshooter before she stood up and fired. The shot missed Hammer again, but nailed one of her other Units right in the eye socket, ripping the armor plate off of the head and revealing the pallid skin and the heavy modifications made to the structure of the Cranium by the Combine.

In the creek bed that was their cover, the girl grit her teeth, tears of anger and of fear welling in her eyes. She spoke, "They can't leave anything for dead, can they? Those fuckers!" only to gasp as her sibling, her male twin, grabbed her by the collar. He'd bandaged the burn left by that near-miss with whatever was left of his medkit and stared her down now.

"Don't poke your head out again," He told her, seeing that tired look. He told her, "I know… I know…" in a low voice, "They can't even let the dead rest, no. Only thing we can do right now is make sure they either don't get to use it again, or we survive this mess and kill that knockoff another day," before lifting his LMG.

"Guys!" Another Rebel called out, "I can appreciate the emotional distress, BUT WE'VE GOT INCOMING-" only to be shot in the head with an MP7 round. The Gunner gasped, hefted his MG and opened fire again, spent rounds falling into the mud of the creek while his sister drew her Sniper, pulled out an old soviet Fragmentation grenade and pulled the pin, then lobbed it behind her and started firing toward the flanking combine units.

One of the few other survivors shouldered a semi-automatic Kalash-style shotgun and spoke, "Where the hell are those reinforcements from Nadya's Cell!" before lifting the gun and firing. A high-speed, high-caliber slug left the barrel, aimed straight for the face plate of one of the OTAs armed with shotguns. The slug ripped through the air, struck the reddish-orange optical ports of the gas mask and tore through the skull of the Transhuman soldier.

"Are you this ungrateful to me that you will not listen to my requests?" The Elite teased again, causing the Sniper to blank. The Elite, Hammer, fired another burst as her voice distorted, growing low and terrifying, "AfTER HOW MuCH I SACRIFICED for you?" which caused the Sniper to cover her ears, tears welling in her eyes.

The Gunner wanted to retort, but found nothing within to reply with. Instead, he tried to poke his head out and got smacked in the face by hot mud from another series of pulse rounds impacts. He wiped the mud off with the bottom of the palm, before lifting the MG and blind-firing overhead, whispering something to himself.

The shotgunner rebel crawled up to the sniper, slapped her upside the head and said, "Get your shit together before we get killed over here, girly!" only to gasp as a grenade fell into the ditch. She grabbed it, threw it back and aimed and fired her shotgun on full auto, emptying the ten round magazine incredibly quickly. She slid it into her vest, slammed a fresh one home and racked the bolt.

"Extractors out. Go Sharp! Go Sharp!" A Combine soldier barked…

The Gunner continued firing, pausing as several more grenades suddenly came into his line of sight. Time slowed for all three of them as the tubular explosives with red, glowing, flashing lights moved toward them. They only had two options at this point:Sit, take the blast of the Grenades and die, or make a run for it, hoping they wouldn't get gunned down the moment they stood up.

And there wasn't enough time to really move without losing a limb. The gunner, Victor, took his sister's hand and pulled her and the shotgunner close, suddenly moving to shield them from the explosions by pulling them underneath him. If he went down, they might yet have had a chance to get the fuck out and report back to the Rebel HQ…

… The thunder of a high-caliber sniper rifle bellowed through the air. A white contrail followed a massive bullet as it hit the first grenade, punched through, hit the second, then hit the third right after. All three explosives detonated mid-flight, with the OTA Elite calling out a surprised, "What…?" as she turned.

Her optical sensors picked up four targets advancing toward them. Layered in shields and titanium armor, they were the High-Value Targets painted by Overwatch as ANTICITIZEN BLUE, a four-man fireteam of elite troopers of the Resistance. She put her hand up to her ear, ordering, "Overwatch, Hammer. ANTICITIZEN BLUE confirmed in sector. Orders?"

"Protocol Change:Disengage, report. Hammer, orders are to retreat. Dispatching SKYSHIELD unit CAPTOR-2 to retrieve you at recovery point VECTOR. ADVISOR units will decide on proper protocol for excision of ANTICITIZEN BLUE and any additional threats upon return."

Retreat?

OVERWATCH had never issued orders to retreat before. Especially not against isolated enemies that were about to be wiped. The Elite took cover as more high-caliber rounds zipped through the air and struck them. She ordered, "All HAMMER Squad units, retreat. Order repeats:Disengage, report. Excision duty surrendered to higher echelons and Skywatch. Withdraw to evacuation point VECTOR. Rapier, on me."

The OTA trooper that had been by her side nodded, walking backward and firing his SMG as to cover the retreat. Razor, another Elite, fell to her right with a round tearing clean through his skull from the high-caliber sniper rifle. She saw the distant target and began moving back, too, trying to stay in cover behind the trees.

The retreating squad lost three more members, including Razor, to the advancing four-man fireteam, all while the three stunned Rebels ahead of them stared with wide eyes. Looking back, they watched as the four figures that had just saved their lives emerged from the tree-line, armed with futuristic weapons and clad in heavy armors.

"Jesus Christ," Whispered the Shotgunner, looking up at them, her deep teal eyes wide with shock and hope. She spoke, "These are the guys Nadya sent reports on…?"

The one in dark-green armor raised a balled fist and his team-mates halted beside him, keeping their weapons trained on the Combine troops as the last few tracers from the units zipped by their ears. The Gunner stared up, too, mouth agape, then said, "They gotta be OTAs, man… No way we made anything like this…"

The green one looked at them, lowering his rifle and causing a chill to shoot up their collective spines. He turned toward them, slinging his rifle onto his back and offering his hand, before telling them, "We're not Combine," while watching them. The Gunner took his hand and stood up, then helped his sister and the black-haired shotgunner girl up.

The shotgunner slung her gun onto her back and walked over to the corpses of the other Rebels, to which the green man asked, "That what's left of your cell?"

"No… We were a distraction squad. We offered ourselves up so our TL could get out of our old outpost by the lake with the rest of our unit," The Gunner replied, slinging the weapon onto his back. He looked at them again, watching as the Sniper arrived, then told her, "That was a nice shot… Saved us from the frag grenades…"

The Sniper nodded to them, then said, "We should go, Chief."

"Mm…" The man replied, then looked at the one with the large visor and called to her, "Kelly," before tilting his head toward the black-haired shotgunner and saying, "Help her retrieve the ammo and the tags. We're moving out back toward the bunker," and he got a quick salute from 'Kelly'. The silver-clad female soldier descended from the edge of the creek/ditch, knelt beside the black-haired woman from their cell and started helping her.

The Gunner looked up and asked, "You have a name…?"

One of them, bulkier, taller and clad in blue armor, said, "We call him Chief. So do the other Resistance cells here," calmly descending the slope. He trained his rifle on the path the Combine had used to retreat, before asking the Rebel in camo, "Do Combine usually retreat?" as he lowered the weapon. The Gunner shook his head weakly, which garnered ever the slightest nod in reply.

"Ammo's packed," Kelly spoke as she stood up, tapping the rugged-looking, old military backpack that the shotgun wielder wore. She said, "I also found out our fellow shotgunner's name is Vera…" before turning to the Twins and asking them, "You two have names we can call you by? We know most Rebels don't run by ranks, but you already know my name."

"Yeah… Victor and Victoria," The gunner replied, "We're twins…" before cracking a small smile. He looked over at his sister, the sniper of the team, and noticed the frown on her face before asking her, "Hey, you alright?" and putting a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head, then turned her head toward the way the Combine ran. He called out, "Hey," his voice quiet, but kind, "... It wasn't her. You know how the Combine are. Fuckers will do anything to get into our heads."

"O sunat ca ea, omule…" The girl whispered in a different language, voice cracking as she looked at her brother, "Monotonă, a dracu' de modificată, dar a sunat ca ea…" and tears ran down her cheeks, leaving trails through the dirt that had splashed on her face. He sighed, slung his rifle onto his back, then pulled her in for a hug.

She patted him on the back, too, while holding her sniper with one hand while trying to stifle her tears. Vera walked up to them, too, gently placing a hand on Victoria's shoulder while the Spartans stood around, awkwardly. Breathing in a shaky breath, the girl shook her head to clear her mind and said, "Right, sorry, Chief and all… Let's get moving…"

The four all nodded in unison, before starting to lead the way. Kelly took the lead as forward scout, speeding off ahead to make sure the Combine wasn't gonna be sending any extra surprises, or that their escape route was planned and covered. Chief stood behind with the trio of survivors. He asked Victor, "... Did something happen?"

The man sighed and waved it off, "Combine fuckers are using the Dead to try and demoralize us, Chief…" before hefting his dirty old PKM, the Kalashnikov General Purpose Machine Gun of the 20th Century. Chief gave the weapon a quick once-over, noting rags wrapped around the weapon's barrel and gas tube as some sort of impromptu handguard. The grip that was usually attached to the barrel had been visibly sheared off, the detachable barrel presumably fused to the gun now. Even the ammo boxes the man hauled looked rusted, worn and beaten, with indents and cracks in the welds.

Behind him, his sister, who kept looking back to make sure they weren't being followed. Her sniper rifle, either a Dragunov or some Combloc variation thereof with a longer handguard and thumbhole stock, looked just as rough. The top of the handguard had been eaten away by mold, the stock was missing a central support strut of wood, which had been replaced with a pipe of some kind and the scope itself had a relatively tiny crack at the front, not to mention the varied indentations on the metal.

The Spartan replied quietly, "I understand… I'm sorry."

Victor looked at him, cracked a small smile and said, "Yeah, you guys aren't Combine, alright," before turning back to his sister and Vera and saying, "They're showing actual empathy."

Both Victoria and Vera let out short laughs at that, while Kelly commented, "We even have senses of humor… Like noticing the fact whoever named you and your twin sister wasn't very inventive with the naming convention," and that got a laugh out of both of the twins, with the girl of the pair seemingly brightening up a bit.

Well, 'girl' was a poor use of the term. Both of them looked like they were in their forties and had gone through the wringer one too many times, with greying hair and the male twin having a five o'clock shadow that looked more grey than dark like the rest of the little hair hidden underneath his beanie. All three also wore old uniforms from the Pre-Seven Hour War days.

Victor shot back, "Well, yeah… Romania wasn't the country known for having the sharpest tools in the shed in the '90s," as they climbed up onto a steep incline and out of the Creek. He continued, "Not like it matters much, anyway. Like half the world, that place is looooong dead," with a smirk on his face. Kelly chuckled a little, nodding understandingly.

"Eh. We'll rebuild a better Romania. With blackjack… And maybe hookers," Victoria joked, which caused both Victor and Vera to laugh aloud.

Vera added, "Don't let the boys hear that, Vicky. They'll beat the shit out of us if we don't provide," while laughing. Vicky chuckled, while Vera said, "But less hookers and more building families, blyat. God knows we're gonna need to get to work after the Suppression Field finally goes down," all while casting worried glances back, too.

Chief cleared his throat, taking their attention toward him. He asked, "Where's your Cell's leader?"

"Probably at the secondary fallback spot with the others," Victor replied as they went deeper into the forest, under the cover of the trees' canopy. They heard the distant chopping of rotorblades and all of them visibly tensed and stopped, kneeling and taking cover behind the trees, faces grave compared to the mirthful joy they were showing seconds ago. He spoke, "Hunter Chopper. Must be one of the Skywatch units they called for us…"

"Chyort," Vera whispered malignantly, then joked, "I left my Igla at home…" as she shouldered her shotgun and checked the ammo for it. The Spartans were impressed, even if they didn't say anything. They were all alert, visibly tense, but combat ready and trained, meaning the uniforms each of them wore were not just for show;they had fought in the Seven Hour War.

The team waited, listening to the Helicopter move farther and farther away, its rotor sounds fading far deeper into the forest. Victoria spoke, "It's heading out toward a refueling station nearby… Probably going to hunt farther into the Outlands," before sighing deeply and lowering her rifle. She looked at the Spartans, all of whom were still looking around, then asked, "You guys okay?"

All four nodded. When the noise finally vanished for them, too, Chief stood up first and said, "Let's hurry. The others are waiting for us," and got nods of confirmation from the team. They broke into a sprint, scattering into a staggered column formation with enough spacing between them to avoid any possible grenades or mines.

Arriving at a hatch that was camouflaged, Kelly moved to it and cracked it open, showing the three survivors to go down the ladder. First was Vera, who had the close-quarter shotgun. Then, Victor went down next, his PKM clanging against the hatch's side a little due to it being so large. Vicky went in next, quickly descending down to the bottom level, where neon lights greeted them in a somewhat dirty, round corridor with a catwalk.

The muffled sound of a record filled the ears of the trio of rescued Resistance soldiers as they walked forward. Behind them, the four Spartans finally descended, shutting the hatch behind them after making sure it was properly camo'd up. Entering the 'command' center, the group found it to be a bit more crowded, with a few couches and bunks here and there, plus other furniture brought over from storage to provide them a table to eat at.

Nadya sat by the radio, while Jess and Old Man were playing cards. Looking up, the team leader smiled and lifted up the transmitter, "... Yeah, Kat, they got here safe and sound. If you can make your way over, you can come retrieve them…" before stopping, counting them and sighing, "Three. The Twins and your shotgunner. Yeah, I know. Sure, I'll tell'em. Take care. Bog s toboy, bye."

She shut off the radio, leaned back into her seat and said, "Thanks for bringing them back alive, Chief. Victor, Vicky, Vera. You'll be glad to hear Kat and Paula made it over to the secondary RV point and should be on the way to us," before offering them cigarettes from an old pack. All three of them took a Cig each, with Nadya tossing them a trench lighter to use. She then looked at Chief and said, "Eli also called to say Noble Team made it safely to Black Mesa East."

Chief nodded, "Good to know."

"They'll be keeping their ears to the ground to see if more Spartans'll be arriving. Sort of Underground Railroading them like the Citizens in the City 17 do to Refugees," The woman explained, then looked over at the trio, asking, "Suppose you guys got to see them in action, eh?"

"Ya kidding?" Vic asked, his voice slightly muffled by his lips as he took a drag from the cigarette, blowing the smoke up into the sky and grinning, "Crazy bastards saved our lives from an OTA platoon. Forced them into a retreat, somehow," before looking at Linda and adding, "And even before that, their Sniper shot their fucking grenades out of the sky."

Jess lifted up her hand and said, "Spartans are crazy! And we got a bunch of'em now, too!"

"Spartans, eh?" Vic snorted, looking at Chief and asking, "Like the Thermopylae kind?" only to get a nod, then a 'so-so' sign. He snorted and joked, "Damn, I didn't know the history books were so far off and you all actually had power armor," which got a laugh out of his sister. Vera, meanwhile, walked over to Jess and Old Man and sat down next to them. Anton, meanwhile, came over from the hab area to take Nadya's place.

The Commander of the Cell told them, "If you kids want something to eat, we've managed to get the old kitchen of this Doomsday bunker working."

"What is this place?" Vicky inquired.

"Old Russian Reserve bunker… Had and has a lot of guns, gear and ammo left-over, including some vics, but…" Anton spoke as he approached, then winced and frowned, "The engines are fucked for the most part. Unless we start manufacturing new parts, we won't have a working BTR, much less actual tanks going for us."

"... Shit, lemme take a look," Vicky grinned, "I'm pretty handy with a wrench."

"Knock yourself out," Nadya offered, handing her a toolbox and pointing toward the ramp leading to the garage. She and Victor walked toward it after bidding a quick goodbye, then turned to the Chief with a sigh and arms crossed. She told him, "Can't wait for their other two pals to arrive. They're all Vets of the Seven-Hour War, too…"

"We figured," Chief spoke calmly, "We'll try to be as accommodating as possible…"

"Heh," Nadya smiled, "Not a lot you can do about that, Chief… Thanks for wanting to, though," before walking over to the kitchenette to try and boil them some tea. The Spartans, meanwhile, kept their eyes and ears open. Cortana, too, worked to keep tabs on the Combine's BattleNet while trying to stay undetected.

Best to listen for future reinforcements…