Fox was first to lead the group down from the roof with dare already having departed towards the central part of the city. Ryder took to the rear, accompanying the Sellian female with O’Brian at the center. Ryder was displeased with watching over the Sellian, and made known her displeasure.

“Sir, are you sure we have to watch over her? How do we know she’s not a spy? I say we put her down, and save us the trouble,” spoke Ryder. Her tone was one of disgust and plain disregard.

“That’s enough,” he ordered. “You and Fox will secure the entrance while I secure our friend so that no harms comes to her. It wouldn’t be right to send her off into a war zone.”

Ryder was silenced at his call, and moved quietly for the remainder of their transit toward the ground floor. When they reached it, Dare left toward the street.

“Sir, I'm picking up an ammo cache just outside. I’ll go on ahead,” he said. Once I'm full, I’ll recon the target.”

Just outside the entrance, a cache of ammo was embedded into the asphalt, in the shape of a rounded cylinder. A tube designed for low orbit drops. Within it, ammo for their suppressed rifles and Sidearms were supplied; enough for a squad. Dare took was he needed for his Anti-Material Rifle, as well as his suppressed Marksman Rifle, respectively, and departed south-east, toward a collection of taller buildings that overlooked a large area. Even O’Brian knew it to be a decent vantage point, but trusted his subordinate’s decision.

“Stand guard, and be on the lookout for the rest of the platoon,” he said. The Sellian then took over, leading him down a flight of stairs and finally into a dark hallway that had no power, thus no light to assist in their travel. Vorta used her personal device to light her way, but O’Brian had no need to. His vision was clear, and the outline of objects was made apparent by his helmet’s inborn function, highlighting everyday options as yellow, interactive items as blue, teammates green, and enemies red.

As they approached closer, Vorta stopped. At the end of the hall, there was a circular door that acted as her entrance, and it wasn’t fastened by electronic locks, instead, it was mechanical in nature. A series of steel pistons protruded from the sides, connected to a latch that when turned, extended the pistons into the walls. The door was two inches thick, not much against bombs, but enough for small arms.

“I don’t remember leaving it open like this,” she said softly. O’Brian then grabbed her, forcing her to the wall to hide her device, as well as shield her from possible incoming fire. He pulled his rifle up and peered into the room, revealing two beds on the left, some furniture in the center and some desks and drawers on the right. But beyond them, two pillars were constructed in the center of the room, and his helmet tried to can beyond it, to no avail.

“Stay here and be quiet. I’ll check it out, and you’d best use this door as cover,” he said as he readied his weapon.

In pure darkness, the helmet operated by passive sonar technology that aided in providing a highlight to objects, but its range was limited to about fifteen meters. His active radar module could detect up to twenty-five meters, simply by showing a red dot on a mini-map in the top-left corner of his HUD.

As he moved forward, to secure one side of the room, he swept in a wide angle to the left side of the room then did the same to the right. The room was wide, but fell within the parameters of his night visor. His concern, however, was the part beyond the pillars, and as he inched closer, the part of the room he couldn’t see earlier slowly revealed itself to him, as well as two individuals using the pillars as cover.

They had noticed his movements by his muffled steps, but it was too late as he fired into them. The one closest to him was fast to react, charging him, but O’Brian planted his rear foot into the ground behind him and delivered a kick to the chest of the attacking Sellian. The kick was explosive, as it caused him to recoil from the kick, leaving it gasping for air. With his rifle still up, he fired into the second, with the sound of thick plastic cracking until it no longer moved. Then he turned his attention to the grounded Sellian, as it writhed.

“What are you doing here,” inquired O’Brian. He found it odd that they would target the home of a stranded civilian for a search. It didn’t add up. It continued to squirm, holding its chest and gasping for air.

“It don’t concern you, Terran,” it spoke in disgust. It wasn’t willing to reveal much, and it had tried to reach for its weapon when it spoke to him, and he wasn’t in the mood to interrogate. As a mercy, he fired into the chest of the Sellian male with three shots. With the body now still, he called to the entrance of the room.

“Pack your essentials. You’re coming with me,” he said, dismissing the two corpses that now lie behind the structural pillars of Vorta’s room.

She did as he said, taking care to move throughout her home as she stuffed what she claimed to be essential; extra clothes, family ornaments and heirlooms, along with memorabilia of her family and friends. She would come to miss her home, but for now, she heeded the words of the man who silently and effortlessly felled two Warriors of Sellia.

“Where will we go?” she then asked as she continued to stuff her personal bag of belongings.

“Might be best to have you vacate the town. I can arrange for transport, and you can be in orbit in less than an hour,” he said. He motioned through his wrist mounted display, ready to issue the request when she denied.

“No, not yet,” she said. “I… need to find my sister, Tola. I’m not leaving the city without her!” Her tone emanated conviction, and he was going to be hard-pressed to say no. He raised his hands, conceding to her statement.

“Very well, but you’ll listen to my orders. I’m not going to risk having a civilian on the front lines, you’d only risk the safety of my troopers. ‘Got it?” he said in a stern voice. He didn’t want to bring her, but it was likely that she was going to trail them anyway. So he thought it's best to tag with them, as they would a field reporter of the Republic News Network. Their presence irritated him, usually by getting in the way during a firefight, with him having to divert man power to their protection. It wasted their combat effectiveness, but if he kept her to the protection of a Rhino, then he could get away with taking her along. After they left the room, he stopped just after going up the stairs to the first floor of the building, and Fox and Ryder remained on guard near the entrance.

“I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves,” he began. He outstretched his hand, with the light from outside lighting up their surroundings.

Taking a closer look, she was unnerved by the sinister markings on his helmet, mimicking a laughing face with a mouth wide open, lined with razor-like teeth. She was reluctant, but met his hand in a similar fashion. It was large and sturdy compared to hers, and the rough exterior of his suit added to the coarseness of his hands, similar to a feeling from an older partner, who's face had already begun to face. Instead of a metal jaw, the visage of predatory eyes and a wide maw were all that began to fill her head, and she wondered who they looked like behind the mask. However, when he spoke, his presence alleviated mind enough, that she had nearly forgotten she was in a war zone, let alone the two soldiers who entered her home. But with him, she felt safe.

“Vorta,” she said. “Vorta Volkala. A pleasure,” she bowed in customary Sellian tradition.

“Lieutenant O’Brian,” he replied. He gave a bow, similar to Vorta, when she gave a small chuckle. “What’s so funny? Did I do it wrong?”

“No, it’s just that my greeting is usually done by the women in our culture. The men’s is quite different, but perhaps I can show you another time,” she replied, offering now a less formal reserved greeting.

“Perhaps,” he added, when a call from Ryder came from the entrance.

“Sir, the rest of the platoon is here,” she reported, snapping Vorta back to reality and causing O’Brian’s demeanor to shift to the warrior she was first met with.

“Set up a perimeter while I gather the squad leads,” he ordered. Fox and Ryder did as he requested, relaying to the others in the platoon to do the same.

When he departed the entrance, with Vorta close behind him, he was met with the ragged appearance of his platoon. Those under Strega were hit the hardest, with much of her platoon holding each other up from their injuries, with more being loaded up in their APC and a pair of Pumas if storage allowed. Their armor was scarred, and some were missing parts of their armor plating, namely from their shins and shoulders. O’Clair’s second squad was hit the same, suffering from many of the same injuries and the corpsman working overtime to alleviate their injuries, with their medical supplies quickly running out. However, Jericho and Blythe’s squads were nearly untouched, telling how little resistance they went through.

“Squad leads, sitrep!” he ordered. Jericho and Blythe were first to meet him, with O’Clair and Strega following not long after. Both had sustained injuries, like many of their subordinates, with Strega applying pressure to her abdomen with the stain of blood present. O’Clair had her arm wrapped with tightly bound gauze, having taken less damage than the former. After regrouping, Jericho was the first to report.

“As you ordered, we were able to re-target the cannons. After comms had cleared, Minerva took over. We had little resistance, so we took few losses, just some scrapes and bruises,” he said. Blythe was silent, but nodded to Jericho’s report.

“We hit ‘em fast, and took the cannon, but their soldiers don't seem like much,” he added. “You can probably take their city with a division of the Orbital Troopers, they’re that much of a push over.” Blythe turned to Strega and O’Clair who only glared at him, when the lead of bravo squad began her report.

“Unlike those two, the north was heavily guarded. They had some armor, and to top it off, sniper support. From the looks of it, I think another set of troopers rolled through. Luckily, Minerva took over and blew it, enough to cover our escape,” replied O’Clair. Strega looked around O’Brian, noticing the lack of a certain individual.

”By the way, where’s Dare?” she asked. “I wanna say thanks for the cover. They would have had us, if not for him.”

“He’s setting up to cover our advance. But why don’t you tell him yourself,” replied O’Brian.

“I would,” she replied, pointing to the right side of her helmet, “Took a graze by a sniper. Knocked my comms. Even my Night Vision is starting to act up…” she tapped against the side of her helmet to manually ease the supposed glitches happening to her HUD. He pulled out a device on his hip, bringing it to chest level.

“Athena, think you can rework her HUD and comms?” inquired O’Brian.

“I can do nothing for her comms, and her visor array has taken light physical strain. I can do little for her systems, the same goes for the Raiders who suffer similar symptoms,” replied the AI.

“What systems do you have up?” he asked, gauging what he could of her remaining combat effectiveness.

“Reticle and compass. The bare minimum, and my map is too glitched out to read,” replied Strega. O’Brian asked the same of O’Clair, who replied with more up systems compared to her comrade.

“What of our reinforcements? I saw pods drops. Loads of them,” inquired Strega, grimacing at the pain to her side.

“All of Raven, Cobra, and most of Viper. Then us,” replied her commanding officer. “Our platoon is the only one up for Raptor company. Echo and Foxtrot are assisting the fleet in boarding parties. Can either of your squads continue?”

The two in question looked at one another, then to their soldiers in question. Several were wrapped in bandages and gauze as they held the perimeter, with others barely holding themselves up from the pain they were enduring.

“We’ve got some resting in the Rhinos, but they need med-evac,” added O’Clair.

This would reduce their effectiveness, but he had an obligation to their safety and well-being. He could very-well push them beyond their limits, but they weren’t in a position where he could ask that of them. They had aerial support, and a fleet commander who knew very little losses. It was the least he could do.

“I’ll radio in. Get your men ready to depart, you’re leaving,” ordered O’Brian. The two reluctantly agreed, and returned to their men by the Rhinos, leaving the leads of third and fourth squads. “Jericho, Blythe. Get your men set to advance, we’re losing Alpha and Bravo squads, so get ready to pick up the slack,” he said, turning his attention to the two previous Raiders on his detail.

“Fox, Ryder. On me,” they arrived, prompt in their step. “Your squad’s out of commission, so you’re with me. Regroup with Sergeant Grayson after you resupply.” The two affirmed their orders, departing for the large man mingling with red marked Raiders beside the lead Rhino.

With nearly all of first and second squads being relieved, it left O’Brian with only two complete squads, and a fireteam, which consisted of Dare, Grayson, Fox, Ryder, and himself, with Badger’s and Hunter away for the moment. He then turned to the silent Sellian to address her.

“You’re taking a ride with the other Raiders,” he said sternly, leaving little room for Vorta to interject. “It’s too dangerous, even if I leave you in a Rhino. There’s no guarantee it won’t get blown to hell.” He could tell she wanted to object, as the only thing she could think of is her sister.

“I-I have to see if Tola is safe, if anything, I’ll be safe, I promise!” she begged, holding on to the fabric of his blotted clothing, but he didn’t yield.

“Denied. It’s far too dangerous, and I have an out for you. And if you were to hide, there’s no guarantee that your people or mine, won’t level this place. Sorry, but I’m not taking that risk.”

The building they gathered in front of was connected to another four-way street with the center large enough for a medium-sized drop-ship or shuttles to take what survivors they can. He had already called it in, with the operator issuing their arrival in a little over thirty minutes.

The skies above were chaotic, with fighters darting across it as they chased one another, firing all manner of ordnance at one another. It wouldn’t be long until the main force arrives to occupy the skies, effectively closing off Artray from any external help. But he would have to wait for that. As for the med-evac, within thirty minutes, a single ship descended onto the landing zone, kicking up dust and minor debris that impacted against their armor, causing minor scuffs and dents from the engine wash.

The ship was twin engine, situated on two extended support wings near the center of the frame that was variable in function. Its cockpit was sleek, with the pilot in the front and the co-pilot in a raised seat behind them. Both seats were accessible through the main troop cabin with large vacuum sealed doors that opened on the side, or a smaller ramp that opened in the rear. It was known as the Mk. 7 Hawk Transport.

Its space was large enough for two squads to cram together, and they did just that, with Jericho and Blythe’s squads taking security on the open sides of the roads, including their mechanize armor as added support.

O’Brian met Strega at the side of the craft, as she rested against the frame, “I just got word that the Arm of Sol is in medium orbit, away from the fight. You’re being sent there for the remainder of battle. So rest easy,” he said, trying not to be overshadowed by the ship’s engine.

“I won’t be able to rest when we still have a fight to win,” replied Strega, disappointment apparent in her voice.

“I know, but it’s better than losing you all in a fire fight. So go, rest up,” he said. “And you too. Find a seat,” he then said to Vorta.

“But-” she began.

“No buts,” he turned, his visor’s eyes peering into hers, “I’ll look for your sister, but I can’t do that if I have to look behind myself for your well-being. Don’t worry, I’ll find her. Strega,” he turned to the sergeant, “Look after her for me.” She nodded with a nonchalant salute.

“First the wife, now a bachelorette? You scoundrel,” she voiced with a smirk as the doors to the Hawk folded to its side, sealing it.

It began to lift off, kicking up more dust and debris until the force of the engine’s exhaust dissipated, leaving only the remainder of his platoon. It was a miracle he still had his vehicles, with those utilized by first and second squads riddled by holes from the enemy. He ordered that they filled by either Jericho’s or Blythe’s troopers. The Rhino and Grizzly crews were still operational, operating with the minimum require crew.

Earlier, he was notified that they had regain map awareness and surveillance, and so he opened up his map’s display in the comfort of a Rhino. The routes leading to the Council’s Buildings were not far, with a check point one-and-a-half miles into town from where they were stationed. The number of red indicators were heavy beyond the check point, with many of their forces engaged with familiar tagged icons.

The letters of ‘CBRA’, ‘VIPR’, and ‘RAVN’ were seen above them, with their numerical designations more apparent if he zoomed in. Most Raiders dropped in the heart of the city, most notably in the outermost perimeter of the inner city, and had been fighting since then, whittling the large enemy force down, but were still outnumbered. He needed to know their situation before he could finalize his assault, and switched to a band exclusive to the leading officers of each company. Even though the actual frequency was a turn away from standard radio with their own soldiers, he called out over their officer band for their status.

“Fourth Battalion, this is Raptor Actual. Radio Check!” silence followed, but broken calls filtered through static made their way to him.

“Cobra to Raptor Actual, Good radio!”

“Viper! Good radio!”

“This is Raven, I hear you!”

The calls of living commanders were a pleasant one, after being secluded from them for so long, he felt a sense of relief at their calls.

“Actuals, Raptor. I have mission authority, so I’m updating your tac-map with waypoints for likely targets and platoon advances. Stand by, and execute your orders when received,” affirmation was sent through his comms as he implemented his assault, as most of the other companies were engaged in continuous firefights.

Each Raider battalion was broken down into four companies, which were further broken down into three platoons; each consisting of four squads with thirteen soldiers in each squad; then broken into three fire teams with a minimum of four individuals per team. But even if he wanted the entirety of Fourth Battalion in the fight, some spots were utilized elsewhere, like with Raptor Company’s Echo and Foxtrot platoons in use by the fleets above, or with a squad from Kilo platoon from Viper Company escorting a High-Value Target. And with the recent troop exodus of two of his squads in Delta Platoon, his own force was now only half the size, so he appreciated the armor that was gifted to him. For the assault strategy, O’Brian organized each fireteam to link with the nearest team in combat, ignoring their home companies, as right now, they were the only force engaged with the enemy.

“Raptors, load up, it's time to move,” he ordered of his platoon as he continued organizing troop placements.

When he was done, he looked one final time at their routes. He organized all smaller fire teams to disengage, and regroup with the nearest squad towards their objective. And continued that exponential growth towards the direction of the central city.

“Athena,” he called out. “Monitor friendly tags, and update waypoints for value targets. Weapon systems, batteries, commanders, doesn’t matter. Keep IFF tags updated, I’ll leave their command to you.”

“Of course, Sir. I’ll do my best,” she replied. “ I’ll keep you updated of any developments of Sellian tactics.”

“Do that,” replied O’Brian, now keeping his eye on his Tactical Map Display. “Let’s see what you can do…”

If not for their air superiority, he would have found it difficult to mount an organized offensive if they lacked proper intelligence. But before a drop, they were normally briefed on their drop zone, and broken down to the fireteam, on who would go where, hours before their drop. So each person would know what to do and where to go if they were separated from a commanding authority.

Luckily, due to their training, they were taught such things as small unit leadership, since large unit leadership generally fell apart shortly after a drop, resulting in chaos, but also added to their effectiveness. Their organized chaos aided in their attacks because on a tactical display, their forces would look disorganized and ineffective, but their training capitalized on that; allowing small groups to exercise their training to the fullest, to do the most with less.

This was evidenced with clusters of teams ranging from four to eight against an enemy numerically superior, but he noticed it took a well-executed flanking maneuver to ruin the Sellian advance. When the enemy group fired back, they had used most of their troops to attack the sudden foe, inadvertently lowering their focus on the larger team, allowing them to move in swiftly. One-by-one, enemy tags disappeared as the team moved in, with the enemy dancing to and from their flanks. They were boxed in, and there was nothing they could do, except fight.

“Sir, we see the checkpoint, twelve-hundred meters. How copy?” called the Rhino’s operator, his voice reverberating through his comm system. O’Brian looked on his tac-map for enemy indicators, finding nothing.

“It was suspicious, but it's possible they diverted troops from the checkpoints after the Drop. Advance, but check for anti-armor. All Raiders, step off, we’re going on foot!” he ordered. His words received a hearty ‘Oo-rah’ or ‘Aye Sir’ from his soldiers as their boots met the ground.

Their formation taken was one used in standard mechanized patrol. The Raiders placed themselves on the outsides of the road, with the armor driving through the center with their weapons facing opposite directions. The Grizzlies took the front and rear portions of the patrol, with the Rhinos in the center with the Pumas spaced out, so as not to be parallel with each other.

He peeked at his tac-map once more for enemy tags that might have popped up. As far as its capability went, it depended on their source. For his tactical map display to be useful, he would need it constantly updated, which meant constant surveillance from a third party.

They had four-forms for this to work; The first was by ship scans from a specific module that could detect precise movement, thermals, and electromagnetic, but it was an item that was relegated to very few ships simply for its cost. The next was a feed by satellite. It offered a stable feed for the map if they had access to it, but it was difficult in areas where covert was a must and even attempting to access it would trip alarms. A situation that had come across before. The third option worked best, bust was just as expensive as the first, which was a stealth drone that would flow overhead. It was easy to notice at day, so it was best used at night, but not every operation allowed them that luxury. But their final, and current, form of surveillance was the use of an overhead manned ship. It was one outfitted to fight, but offered assistance in momentary map awareness if fuel and lacking enemy presence allowed. Which is why air superiority was a key ingredient in their missions. And as fate would have it, their advantage would flee.

“Raptor, this is Hostess. I can’t be your eyes, we got bogies incoming, too much for current air defense. RTB for refuel. Be back soon,” spoke the pilot.

“Damn it. Give us one last ping,” requested O’Brian of the pilot. She did as he asked, lighting up his map with enemy targets when he noticed a group that wasn’t present last time. The pings couldn’t be relied on too much for an aircraft feed, since it was poor penetrating layers of buildings.

They were further down the road where the road made only a left and right turn, with a large building at the end that faced them. It wasn’t far from the checkpoint, roughly five-hundred meters to his company. His hairs stood up on the ends of his neck; they were in their sights, and they had entered a kill-zone. He noticed a flash from one of the windows, followed my others, and he fell to the ground by instinct. However, instead of falling forward to enter the prone position, he felt the left portion of his chest sting followed by a dull pain that recoiled his body to his rear, landing him on his back. He gasped for air as his chest struggled to regulate his breathing.

“OFFICER DOWN!!!” The sound originated near him, but his vision had blurred from the impact and a ringing sound filtered through his ears. He felt a pressure from his upper back and the ground beneath him ride against his clothing; he was being dragged, and by Fox and Ryder, no less.

Dulled cracks of gunfire erupted around him, with his helmet working overtime to muffle their sharp tones. Traces of gunfire were delivered from the axial guns mounted on the Rhinos, with lines of tracers trailing to where the shot came from, peppering the outer walls. His body also shook with every shot fired from their main cannon, firing in bursts of five to eight, decimating the building.

The two had taken him into a recess of a building, shielding him from bullets from the surviving enemy. Fox had taken to be their security while Ryder began her triage of his body, feeling it up and down for any extra wounds not made by the initial shot. She removed his helmet and the sounds of combat began to deafen him, but she spoke with clarity through her helmet amidst the chaos.

“Sir! Stick with me!” she began prodding round the entry of the bullet as she continued to treat for any shock, “Do you have anywhere that hurts? A sharp pain in the chest?”

He shook his head, “Chest… numb. Feels warm,” his words were short as he tried to manage his breathing.

By clicking on some quick release mechanisms, Ryder was able to detach the armor that was hit. It had some weight to it, but was lighter than it looked, even for an armored plate designed to cover his heart and upper chest, with a lesser plated version beneath to cover the rest of his torso. She examined it closely, then to the area beneath the impact zone.

“Looks good Sir. UA plate is intact, for the most part, and the ballistics gel isn’t leaking. We can patch it, and you’d be good to go. It didn’t exit the plate, so they weren’t using AP, but it's enough to leave a bruise,” reported Ryder.

The entry was deep, with the tail end of a bullet barely sticking out. As she said, The round had entered, but did little to deform the backing of the plate, even though the entry wound looked grievous. That was a feature all current Raider Armor utilized on the central upper-chest plating. It was an alloy with a hollowed center, filled with a non-Newtonian gel that hardens to physical trauma.

He placed his hand on the round that protruded from his chest armor, feeling its heat bleed through his suit and plucked it from his chest, at the dismay of Ryder.

“Sir, I’m not done yet, you can’t just-“ she began before her superior cut her off, tossing aside the previously lodged round. It clanged with each impact against the ground adding to the countless spent casings and slangs of rifles firing.

“We got any more plates?” He asked, and he steadied himself, using the nearest cover as support. Compared to the previous two squads, led by O’Clair and Strega, they were in worse condition than he was, and he had no one he could send home for a medical evac. He had no choice but to commit to their assault.

“No Sir, we’re all out. Best I can do is a sealant, hold still,” she ordered. She then took a small canister from a pouch and began to spray into the entry. It filled until it was near flush with the rest of the armor, and she placed the can back into her pouch, assisting O’Brian as he stood up. “It won’t have as much protection with a round of that size, but it’ll hold against small arms.”

“Thanks, Ryder. Regroup with the rest, and prepare to advance,” he said, stabilizing himself. He felt sore in his upper chest, but with the application of adrenaline-based medication, he was now awake and aware, and the sounds of gunfire put him at alert. He checked his magazines and his weapon, both of which were sufficient for combat.

He checked his tactical map, revealing only the immediate portion of his platoon’s area, with the outlines of buildings added just beyond their sensors. Luckily, his command module for his tactical map connected to the sensors of his subordinates, so what they see, he sees. Only problem, it required their proximity to the enemy. Something he didn’t want to waste man power on, instead, he opted for a more destructive alternative.

“Grizzlies!” He called out over their shared comms. “See that building? I don’t want to.”

They gave a hearty call of affirmation over the radio as they loaded a series of High-Explosive rounds with an added kick. At his order, their barrels raised slightly above their base position and fired. There wasn’t a hum of their rail cannon activating, telling him that they fired their ordnance magnetically unassisted. The round pierced the Sellian made walls with relative ease, and a detonation occurred beyond the veil of the structured walls; Air-Burst. A round designed to explode midair, causing maximum damage in all directions, unlike the damage caused from an explosion on a singular plane. In most instances, it did little against targets with equal armor and shielding, but if a round made its way into the interior of a tank, then the occupants were reduced to liquid. The round was dubbed simply, ‘The Burst’.

“Burst Round delivered. Make sure you wear waterproof shoes, it might be a mess in there,” said the lead Grizzly Operator. “Got nothing on thermals, so proceed with caution. We’ll keep firing until you reach the building.”

O’Brian acknowledged the operator, and ordered his men to advance with the Rhinos as the Grizzlies continued firing into the building. A mix of main gun and co-axial peppered the building as they continued forth until they were near the base. The Rhinos and Pumas blockaded the roads to their left and right for cover, with a detachment of the squads to secure their perimeter, clearing the immediate buildings.

“Fox, Ryder, Grey. With me. Jericho, Get a fire team to secure the lower floors,” ordered O’Brian.

“Understood. Jones, Marquez, Carmine, Tyrus. Secure first floor,” said Jericho. The four he called methodically entered the building as they secured its rooms. After a moment, they returned, with Carmine noting its safety.

“Fox, take point,” said O’Brian. Ryder was next to follow, with himself and Greyson after her.

The Building itself wasn’t tall, sitting around seven stories, but the walls outside of it were littered with bullet holes and walls torn from the grizzlies firepower, with most of the firepower centered to the fifth level. As they moved through the building, they found many of the rooms with rows of desks and cubicles, similar to companies back home.

Looking at his HUD, he didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary on his mini-map nor on his night visor, which appropriately outlined and highlighted everyday items and friends and foes. As they made their way up, his fireteams had finally entered the fifth floor, taking care to move through it. For his search, he focused where they had fired the most, a room whose entirety ran the width of the building and overlooked the street where they approached from. He was slow to enter, but when he did, he felt a sudden change in the ground he stepped on. He felt a layer of something viscous with each step, paired with a liquid texture. When he looked down, he saw it; a room of barely recognizable Sellian remains.

They were donned with the standard Sellian Ground Troupe armor, sporting the standard black and gray under suit, with silver colored plating on the chest, shoulders, and knees. Some donned a red sash around their waist — they were the most recognizable, but lacked all other appendages — and a helmet that was turquoise on the backing and glacial blue on the front. Unlike the barren version of soldiers prior, these belonged to a specialized enemy group, one whose name eluded him. Their weapons as well were different from their standard soldier. While equally worn, the weapons before him were gilded with amber on the top shroud of their rifle, with a teal wrap around the grip.

“Air Burst really makes it hard to walk, “ voiced Greyson. “To think it would do this against an alien. Glad it wasn’t me.”

“Sergeant, is that… Appropriate? I feel bad for them,” chimed Ryder. “If I go out, I at least want to be able to have an open casket. Not to be remembered as goo.” She gagged at the sight.

“No one wants to die, but it’s not my job to ensure if the enemy can have an open or closed casket. And from what I know, they all deserve closed,” rebuked Grey.

“That’s enough,” commanded O’Brian, causing the two Raiders to quiet themselves. “Fox, Ryder, scour the next two floors, Grey, assist them.”

They departed, leaving him in the room alone with the remains of the Sellian soldiers. He moved to the window overlooking the road, and saw the two Grizzlies with the rest of the platoon, enclosing the rest of their perimeter. He then looked over to the surrounding Raiders as they conversed with one another as they also maintained vigilance to their exterior. Some had taken this time to rest as they could, eating or drinking behind the cover of the Rhinos. All the while, tracers from gunfire and missiles littered the sky, with the crackle and booms muffled over the distance. The battle had surrounded them, but even he took time for reprieve.

Once more, he peered beyond the dilapidated and destroyed outlook to his men and the rest of the city. However, in the midst of gunfire in the distance, and the very low thuds of boots above him, he noticed something off from behind him. He checked his mini-map with a glance, noting the two Raiders, Fox and Ryder, by his map's indicator. Elevation was determined by either an upright or downright triangle, and any floors beyond that were indicated by a line that lined the base; Both were two level above him, with Greyson moving below. There were no others besides them, but he heard it.

It sounded small, like someone sliding quietly through liquid, taking care to not land a heavy step. Luckily for him, his helmet’s adaptive noise picked up the slight noise to a barely audible level, but that made it distinct. By sound alone, he gauged their distance, but even that was unreliable. And with the presence not picking up on motion raised alarms to the unknown enemy. For him, his left hand was clasped around the fore grip of his Badger, with his right relaxed over his thigh, above his sidearm. As he listened, the footsteps grew louder, in comparison to before, enough for him to gauge the distance, and the threat.

“Don’t miss because you won’t get another shot,” he spoke, seemingly to the empty space. But with his words, the movement from before halted, confirming his suspicions, and likely stunned from the break of his concealment.

“Well, didn’t think anyone could hear me,” spoke the voice. “You must be their commander. What would happen to your troops if one such as you, who bested the great Brallo, were to perish?”

O’Brian turned his body a quarter to the left when he was ordered to stop, as the individual had their weapon trained. He expected him to fire, and be done with it, but he didn’t. Instead, the individual opted for a dialogue, perhaps to get any information before ending him.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

“Me? Well, you’d certainly do some damage to my troops, but it won’t be the end. There’s always someone that can take my place and finish the mission,” replied O’Brian.

“I don’t believe there are many armies who can survive with their leadership gone. It’s the same for us, and with the Union. I doubt you’re any different. I’m sure if I take you, your Terran offensive is sure to crumble,” rebuked the individual.

O’Brian’s head was turned so that he was able to barely see the individual, outlined in the corner of his HUD. He was surprised to see that there was an outline at all, colored in amber with no one within it, like it was a ghost.

“Cloaking, huh,” he muttered. “Color me surprised.”

“You know of it? Then perhaps it’s best to end you now,” they said. “To think an enemy of Sellia would know of our technology. Who spoke? So that I may finish them when I’m done here.”

“I will say, your tech is clever, better than ours. But not out of the realm of possibility,” replied O’Brian as he slowly motioned his free hand closer to his sidearm, poised to draw. The individual before him seemed formal in their exchange, which had him on edge. The outline revealed no large caliber weapon, instead, it was that on a sidearm, much like his own.

“And no one did,” added O’Brian. “We don’t need a Sellian to tell us about tech, we have plenty of our own. Besides, how would you like to settle this like warriors?”

The question caught the Sellian off guard, “In a bout of fists? Are you crazy? I should end you now-”

“It’s because I know your race is weak, so you make up for it with your navy. You wouldn’t stand a chance against my lowest ranked Raider,” replied O’Brian, cutting off the Sellian.

The individual had seriously considered his opponent's proposition, slightly lowering his weapon in thought. From his perspective, even if they fired, it would land in his torso, either with the Up-Armored chest plate or the rig that covered the rest of his upper body. He had no time to waste, and before the weapon trained on him, he drew his sidearm.

Three shots fired from O’Brian’s weapon, landing the first in the chest, which rocked the body of the Sellian, but it impacted their chest armor, lodging itself deep. The second was also fired into the chest, doing the same as the first and lodging itself deep into the chest. The third, however, was fired into the pelvic region, causing it to collapse and scream out in pain. He then disregarded his grip on his rifle, placing it together with his sidearm, and moved towards the downed target as it continued to writhe in pain. O’Brian kicked away the weapon they held, as their cloaking system failed, revealing the Sellian in its entirety.

“Ah! You!-” He tried to speak but the pain in their pelvis and chest was too great for them to speak.

“First rule of combat, there are no rules. Because at the end of the day, you have to survive. Rules don’t apply if they’ll leave you dead,” said O’Brian. “I know the Rules of Engagement better than anybody, but I also know firsthand that those very rules killed Raiders. Good Raiders.”

He fired his sidearm into the helmet of his enemy, piercing through the amber veil that was their visor. Two holes were made and a web of cracks formed across the visor. The body was now motionless, and a pool of green liquid began to pool through the entry wounds, staining its uniform.

Fox and Ryder then entered through the door with their weapons drawn, expertly clearing the room as they approached their commander, and then to the body of the now expired Sellian.

“Sir, we heard shots. Are you hit?” Ryder was the first to speak, looking O’Brian up and down for any wounds, to which she found none.

“Turns out we had a friend among the dead. He didn’t register on motion, but the Night Visor did, even if they were cloaked,” he explained.

“Cloak? I didn’t think they would have the tech,” she replied. “Only people I know who have that would be Reaper Company,” she said, this time in a hushed tone, as if the people she was speaking of were in the room with her.

“I thought the same, but even if the system couldn’t identify friend or foe, it still counted it as an object. So I think he was hiding among the bodies of his comrades. Clever,” he replied. “In any case, let move out, and notify Jericho and Blythe of our discovery.”

The replied with a quiet ‘Aye Sir’, before returning to the platoon below. He then contacted dare on the latest development pertaining to their ghostly friends, “Dare, we have some advanced resistance. Cloaked enemies, they won’t show up as foe on your visor, so take care when engaging.”

“Copy,” replied the sniper. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

The call disconnected and O’Brian was now left to himself. He ensured to notify all current platoon commanders of a possible cloaked enemy in the field. They suspected the enemy to employ some form of advanced technology, but not cloaking.

“Understood, Raptor. Cobra is clear and moving towards the objective from the east. We’ve managed to link up with most of Raven Company, then we can also hit ‘em from the north and draw ‘em out. Should make it easy for your end to attack,” spoke the Cobra Commander. It was a sound tactical decision, and if the enemy encountered a heavy presence of the enemy, then they’re sure to divert most of their focus to the north and east.

“What of Viper? Have you heard from them?” asked O’Brian.

“No, I haven’t heard anything from them, and most aren’t showing up on the tac-map. I’m just seeing scattered fireteams at most,” Said Cobra, his tone was solemn and filled with worry for his fellow Raiders, as was O’Brian. “Last I saw, they dropped damn near the center of enemy territory. Although, I am picking up a squad hold up in a building, no more than six, in between yourself and the objective.”

It was as he said, there was a squad hold up in a building centered between two large roads and what looked like a park, to his north-east. Compared to the other Companies, Viper was the only one that dropped away from each other, with squads of up to four dropping together. They were known to drop erratically, occasionally landing themselves in the thick of the enemy, with most instances resulting in their immediate deaths. But those that survived, were a force to be reckoned with.

He had now regrouped with the rest of his platoon, notifying them of their change of plans, “Load up. We’re double timing it to Viper. It’s supposed to be a hot zone, so get ready to engage a target rich environment.” Jericho and Blythe gave acknowledgement in the form of a heart ‘Rah’ before departing to their vehicles and organizing their respective squads.

O’Brian had previously tried to get into contact with them, but to no avail. Instead, he referred to Dare for intel since the building he inhabited was still standing, and it overlooked a majority of their area.

“Dare,” he spoke into his comms set, “There should be a park to my North-East with a squad from Viper under heavy contact. Verify.” It took a moment, but his answer came soon after he embarked as a passenger on a Puma. The sun was beginning to crest the horizon now, and its blue and purple hue hugged the sky with each minute.

“Barely. I have a set of buildings blocking my view, but I can see the roof of a central building in the center of the park. No trees, but lots of smoke and tracer fire coming from the building. Wait one,” said Dare.

He had now switched to the Anti-Material Rifle, since it offered a better long-range scope than his suppressed variant. It was digital in nature, offering an overlay of information for the user, but had a perfect zoom well beyond what was necessary, especially at the distance he was shooting. He rotated the single-action bolt to the rear, loading in the round until the bolt seeded it into the chamber with a thudded click before locking the bolt and took aim.

His first instinct was to scan the roofs of the buildings surrounding the squad. Without much effort, he had already found several teams of enemy artillery and marksmen taking aim and bombarding the squad with mortar fire. It was a constant stream of fire as bursts of smoke erupted on and around the singular building.

“Sir, they won’t have long. They’ve got mortars and accurate fire who wasn't letting up. You’ll need to hurry,” he said before firing a shot at an unsuspecting marksman.

“Copy,” replied O’Brian. “All teams, double time it. Weapons free and execute with extreme prejudice, secure that AO…”

…

“… DAMMIT GET ME AMMO!” Roared a Raider firing from a squad automatic weapon, a belt-fed weapon of lead delivery. He was prone, with the rest of his body resting in the crater from an earlier fired mortar. To act as his support berm, bodies of dead Sellians were laid to grant his weapon support and to provide himself cover from enemy fire. Behind him came running a Raider, light with his load, carrying cans of ammo in both arms with a belt of rounds around his neck. He dove beside the prone Raider and immediate began preparing to assist in a reload.

“What took you so long?! If I ran out, we’d be dead!” The name of his chest plate was scratched and worn. It was Bridger.

“We had to dig for it, alright!? Shut up, and get ready to reload!” The one before him was just as old and marked white like his prone comrade. His name was still visible, and he was named Timbers.

As Bridger continued to fire, he readied himself for a practice process they had spent the last several hours perfecting, a speed reload of an open bolt machine gun. Timbers placed half of his body over that of Bridger in preparation. From the outside, it seemed intimate, but in combat, it was necessary. With a click, the weapon ceased firing, and the two began their remedial.

First, the bolt was sent to the rear and placed on safe, then barrel was detached and swapped with a second, locking it into place, as the first was glowing orange. The next action they took was Timbers opening the Bolt Cover, taking care to lower their heads and clearing the bolt of any debris. Timbers fed Bridger a fresh belt of ammo, to which he placed into the open bolt. When it was clear with no issues, Bridger slammed the bolt cover down, locking it. He then set the weapon on fire, then released the bolt forward and began firing in three-second bursts. The total time took them six seconds for a barrel swap and reload.

Bridger was the main gunner and Timbers was his assistant gunner. In the case that Bridger was killed, Timbers would take over; it was a grim reality, but compared to other Gunner teams, they lasted the longest as a pair.

“Dammit! Where the hell is the rest of the platoon!? Shit, let alone the rest of the company,” Bridger complained, firing another burst into an encroaching enemy, slowing their advance.

“Pops said they’re dead. Since he can’t get comms. We’re in the dark!” Replied Timbers.

The squad had long disregarded their helmets, leaving them with only their armor and weapons, and little to no combat information. As they said, information is power, and right now, they lacked it. In the initial wave, they were bombarded by mortar fire, clipping their armor, but it was their helmets that took the brunt of the force. However, it wasn’t just shrapnel that did their helmets in, but something else, since even those who weren’t hit, reported zero feedback on their HUD. No Night Visor, no Mini-Map, no Compass.

“Must’ve been the EMP. Who would’ve thought that they utilized EMPs in mortars,” said Bridger.

“Yea, no kidding. I thought our shit was rated for EMP,” added Timbers.

“Barely. Maybe for an overhead EMP, but not for something right next to us. Damn near fried my brain with how close it hit,” replied Bridger.

He remembered the moment it hit initially. A small explosion that occurred around them as they were organizing a strategy using Pops’ tactical map, but as soon as it went off, he and the rest of the squad experienced night. Some of their helmets malfunctioned to the point of a thermal runaway, resulting in most, if not all, tossing their helmets as they burst. They now had no Hud, and most of their comms resided within the helmet themselves, so that left them in the dark. He wasn’t sure if their internal Friend or Foe tags were working, so for all the fourth battalion might know, they were dead.

They continued firing into the enemy, forcing them to keep their heads down as the zip and crack of the rounds flew overhead, missing them by mere inches. Timbers, acting as the assistant gunner, paid mind to their surroundings as Bridger fired. From roofs overhead, snipers fired upon them, hitting close to their mark, but Bridger remained unfazed by letting loose a Burt in the direction of a known sniper.

They didn’t move, which surprised him, and went it went against everything they knew for the basics. Such in the case of a lone sniper team, it made sense to move after firing, but you could get away with more shots if they were suppressed. The Sellians, however, didn’t do that. Instead, they acted as run-of-the-mill marksmen; hunkering down and laying suppressive fire for their teams to move in. Except, they just stayed where they were, making them viable targets. He couldn’t say the same for the mortars, however.

With no easy marks to make of the enemy, they had to rely on light, and sound; two unlucky combinations in the dark of night. Luckily, added tracers allowed for bits and pieces of the battlefield to illuminate, sometimes revealing an unlucky enemy combatant.

“Say, you still have that flare?” Asked Bridger. “We might need it.”

Timber’s shook his head in the negative, “Just one, and I don’t expect reinforcements to arrive anytime soon…”

Bridger knew what that meant, as did the other four left in their platoon; they couldn’t rely on air support, and they had no way of knowing if there were any Raiders in the vicinity who could help. It was a sour realization, but they needed the light to make for a final stand, in the hopes that it would deter the enemy and bring in any friends lying nearby.

“Lemme pass it on to Pops, so he at least knows what’s up,” replied Timbers. The exchange was short, as it was delivered vocally to the building he holed up in trying to fix their comms, still, to no avail.

“You’re good! Get ready to hit ‘em where it matters!” Replied Pops, loading a fresh magazine into his auto-rifle.

With confidence, he fired the single shot into the air. The shot itself didn’t illuminate anything, as only a dim yellow followed by a smoke trail flew into the sky, screaming like a banshee into the night, until finally, it popped. Bright red light showered the battlefield, scattering their shadows that danced erratically and exemplifying their silhouettes.

The use of flares did more than simply illuminate an area. Aircraft use them to deviate a heat seeking missile, and infantry use them to blind night vision, or offer to reveal enemy combatants in a field from overhead, simply by the lengthening of their shadows. They have a myriad of tactical uses but for them, they had little options to choose from, and fortunately, the amber visors of their enemy shone bright and illustrating their ‘V’ style construction. This time, Timbers took his rifle alongside Bridger, and fired at all available targets that were revealed by the sudden eruption of light that bestowed a moment of resolve for the Raiders. A resolve that lasted as long as the flare itself, ultimately diminishing after fifteen minutes.

“Get a beat on ‘em!” Yelled Bridger as he sent forth sustained fire into Sellian soldiers caught by the sudden influx of light.

“I know! I know!” Replied Timbers, firing his rifle in a semi-auto fashion, nailing several in the chest before targeting another. He fired enough that he had to reload near four times, and he was on his last mag while Bridger had one more box of ammunition.

“Dammit! Last mag. We’re screwed, and I don’t feel like doing a bayonet charge,” whined Timbers as he sent the bolt forward and trained his weapon on the next soul, filling them with ‘hate and discontent’. They had little time to make each shot count, and slowly, the brightness of their artificial light source lessened until all that remained were the tracers of cannon fire into the sky from ships engaged in aerial combat. In the next moment, Timber’s screamed, and landed on his back as he held his shoulder.

“Ah!! DAMMIT! I’LL KILL YOU!” He roared, intending for the enemy to hear his pain, and promise. Bridger maintained the gun and his fire, knowing that if he let up, they would assault their position and that would spell their end.

“Don’t worry, I got you!” Bridger fired, sustaining his fire more than before until he heard a click. He was out of ammunition and his barrel glowed more than before, which illuminated his area slightly, enough for him to see a ‘V’ shaped visor staring at him from beyond his berm. He was in the middle of swapping the barrel when the helmet shocked him, that he instinctively used it as a weapon, burning his newfound victim and swatting away its worn weapon it was too late to pull up. It tried to retaliate, but the pain was too much to bear that it flailed its arms towards Bridger, but he continued to hit it until eventually, its motion ceased, and the smell of burnt Sellian flesh assaulted his nose, bringing him back to reality; he was in the open.

He tried to rush back behind the cover of his berm but by then, it was too late, and a series of sharp pain were felt in his back. It felt numb, from the pain, but the initial impacts caused him to stumble over the bodies, that he landed face first onto his Sellian made cover. He looked up to find Timbers applying first aid to himself, and he tried to reach out, but he cough a warm liquid that tasted of iron; blood, his assailant had hit something vital. His vision was heavy, and his breathing grew rapid, but by the time Timbers looked toward him, it was too late.

“Bridger! Hang on, I got you!” He reached for his friend who now struggled to move. He clasp his hand around Bridger’s in an effort to bring him behind cover, but then, it became limp, and a spray of warm liquid landed upon Timbers’ face.

“B-Bridge?” Timbers called out weakly, not knowing if his friend's demise was reality, but deep down, he knew; Bridger had perished.

“HAAHH! Shit!” He screamed, landing a fist into the motionless body of a Sellian corpse. “Pops! Bridger’s is down!” He called out to the building behind him, but nothing came. Only gunfire from a familiar weapon and their tracers were all he could hear and see, his voice going unheard.

He relaxed in his hastily made trench, fit enough for only two people to go prone, as he ran through his friend's death in his mind and their increasingly dire situation of faltering defensive lines. But he had a job to do, and that was to man the gun.

He peeked over the berm of bodies, seeking if any had come any closer since. They were approaching, and they had noticed him as the sun was now beginning to filter through the buildings, turning the sky from black to a grey-blue. They had begun firing into his position with accuracy, causing him to pause in-between actions, but he wouldn’t let them stop him.

The weapon was already set on safe with the bolt to the rear, and an absent barrel, of which the one was lodged into a Sellian that laid not too far from his position. He stayed low as he tried to fix the new barrel with feel alone, and with a click, it was seated. He then threw open the bolt cover, swinging it up as he cleared it of any cartridge links that still remained, and loaded the first round from their last ammo can. Two-Hundred rounds; that was all he had left. When he set the weapon on fire and the bolt was sent forward, he racked it again, ensuring a round was in the chamber and began firing. With his vision better with the growing dawn, he was able to pin targets around him to eliminate them. He was trying to be careful of his flanks, but as he continued gunning down his opposition, he lost focus of his surroundings, filling each burst with hatred for his enemy.

“C’mon you bastards! Charge, so I can gun you down like a dog!” Timbers screamed in-between his shots.

The enemy mortar presence had lessened, and so did the marksman who littered the rooftops, but their disappearance wasn’t apparent to him at first, as his focus was solely on the enemy before him. Their number was few in comparison to before, but still more than the rounds he had left over. He counted them from the remainder in the belt.

“Only twenty, huh,” he said.

It was a miracle they lasted so long, even taking ammo from abandoned drop pods they came across before running into the large force that assaulted them. He thought that they could have hid, or let them pass, by hiding among their fallen brothers and sisters, but they didn’t want that. They couldn’t lie in wait as the enemy prodded over them, they wanted immediate retribution against them, for they were the enemy; they needed to pay for their attack on the Republic.

But as he was lost in thought, he failed to notice the Sellian that stood over him, aiming their worn and battered rifle against him, with their silhouette against the rising sun and their shadow cast upon him. He was next, like Bridger, to meet his fate. He smiled, thinking it ironic how their platoon was reduced to a mere six men, now down to him for all he knew. He didn’t hear gunfire from behind, only silence, thinking they were either killed or captured, and he didn’t realize until now.

As he tried to raise his hands, the Sellian nudged their barrel toward him as they gave their orders, “Don’t move! Or I’ll put you down, Terran!”

He was skittish in his movements, and his voice sounded young, like a recruit who finally worked his way up to face the enemy his comrades died for, so Timbers could only chuckle at his situation. As he laid there, several more of his brethren showed up, surrounding him as he held his hands away from the weapon with his face against the ground.

“Good work, Vitra. If you hadn’t stayed low for so long, we might not have gotten this far without losing another one of the men,” spoke a Sellian comrade. “Looks like we also got the others just on the other side, too. So let’s wrap it up. We got more on the way to secure this sector.”

“Yes, War Chief,” said Vitra. “If not for you taking out the other gunner, we might have been in trouble!”

The tone was nonchalant in its exchange, like another day. It angered him, hearing them speak of Bridger in that way, but he also knew that he would say the same thing, in the same way; with complete disregard of how the enemy would feel. It was ironic, to say the least, but with it, came a sudden change. The one known as Vitra, who stood closely before him, fell to the ground, like a marionette whose strings were cut. The glass of the visor had shattered and the remainder of the helmet was reduced to the neck, as the rest of his head had gone missing. The group of Sellians had now been thrown into a panic with the disappearance of their comrade’s head and turned to the Raider that laid beneath them.

“What happened!? What did you do!” Screamed the War Chief from earlier, but he didn’t know. “Hurry! I can see our reinforcements. Grab him and let’s be off-!”

Another shot rang, this time, from a device that allowed the delivery of thousands of rounds of bullets aboard a mobile platform with an engine's roar to reverberate throughout the open field of bodies and drop pods. Quick, and effective, it’s perfect for hit-and-run tactics; The Puma.

Ra-ta-ta-ta-ta. Like a swarm of metal wasps and locusts, a hail of bullets flew above him and into the standing soldiers of Sellia, reducing them to nothing but chunks of flesh with bits and pieces of clothing an armor too stubborn to let itself go from its once sentient host. And he was covered in them.

Before he was fully aware, he felt the vibrations of something behind him that crushed wood and bone alike as it rolled through the field. It stopped, and seeing how he was still alive, he turned to meet the one responsible to be his savior.

It was a man, donned in the same make and model of issued Raider gear as he was, but was marked with worn and pale gold branded markings. Upon his face, was a heavily scarred glass visor, with the only reflective portion being the eyes and mouth the made him look like a demon; he was a Platoon Commander, at least. Which, in the heat of battle for most Raider Companies, usually didn’t last long. But with the worn scars of battle upon his armor spoke experience and survival, trademarks of a Raider. He looked to his nameplate situated just below the neck, ‘O’BRIAN’.

“How many of you survive,” he asked. “And who’s your superior?”

Since his arrival, several more Pumas scoured the field, letting off their rounds into the approaching enemy patrols. That, paired with the main gun of the Grizzlies and the Rhinos, halting their advance. From the Rhinos, two squads of Raiders disembarked, engaging with the enemy from afar with accurate fire. It was enough for the enemy force to falter quickly as the combined arms provided superior firepower against the enemy.

Timbers pointed to the building where his sergeant had been previously working, still unknown to their status. O’Brian made his way to the building, with Timber’s following behind. As they entered the dilapidated building, he already knew his answer.

The walls were littered with blood and bullet holes from both parties, and as he made his way to the central building, he found a familiar face slumped over with their back to the wall and the bodies of their enemy before them. In his hand, a spent sidearm, cleared of ammo and its slide locked to the rear was seen smoking from its most recent use. Beside him, his combat buddy, a Lance Corporal Ryse, was seen bandaging his leg as he was breathing heavily. When their presence was known, he aimed briefly at the two, but lowered his rifle, seemingly relieved.

“Sir! Timbers! Thank God, you’re safe. Where’s… Corporal Bridge?” He questioned as he continued to apply pressure to his wound.

“He’s… He didn’t make it. Sniper got him,” answered Timbers. Ryse’s expression grew sullen at the mention, knowing Timbers to be his A-Gunner.

“Well, Pops took out as many he could… but there were too many,” added Ryse. “I don’t think Bryson and Corporal Tristan made it. They’d be raising hell otherwise…” His tone was reminiscent, noting how unhinged they were as a pair.

“You two are all that remain,” replied O’Brian. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get here faster. But we tried to offer sniper support while we were en route.”

“It’s… fine sir. I appreciate it. That sniper saved my life,” spoke Timbers.

“You can thank him later. Are you still able?” Replied O’Brian. “We’re still down half a platoon, so we need all available hands if you can. Otherwise, I can request an evac for both of you.”

Timbers shook his head to the offer, “I can still fight. Just need a drink and maybe some rest.”

“You can rest on the way to our objective. Get your gear and standby the Puma,” replied O’Brian.

“Me too!” Sounded Ryse, forcing himself up to meet the gaze of his officer. “It’s just a graze. Some morphine and painkillers, then I can fight.”

“Well, it would be a waste to call a Med-Evac for just one person,” said O’Brian. “I can offer some painkillers. There’s a med can with a stim. Use that.”

His driver supported the Raider by offering his shoulder, leading Ryse away from the small building which was no more than a pile of rubble. O’Brian took in the scene of the sergeant’s last stand as the sounds of gunfire cannons filtered through the air. Without looking, he addressed the lone Raider.

“We have room in my Puma, but it doesn’t have a gun. But I noticed you operate the SAW. My team doesn’t operate one, so we can use you, uh,” O’Brian paused, his attention now to the nameplate just below his chin, but found most of it worn and illegible.

“Timbers, Sir. Callsign, Juliet One-Three,” replied the Raider in question.

“Well met. Load up because we’re hitting their headquarters next, once we deal with their reinforcements,” Said O’Brian.

As they loaded onto the Puma, O’Brian took to the passenger, and Ryse and Timbers made their seats in the absent rear bed of the vehicle. Ryse rested his back against the driver’s seat with his rifle slung and fresh magazines for his auto-rifle. Timbers sat beside him behind the passenger and rested his machine gun facing forward of the vehicle, as their substitute offensive armament.

His men were organized in their attacks, systematically using the Rhinos as mobile offensive cover as they moved closer to their targets. It was obvious that the enemy wasn’t expecting his forces, and the amount of firepower he had brought, outclassed that of the light vehicles the Sellians employed. A mix of Machine Gun and Cannon fire continued to litter their opposition until they were seen fleeing down the road they had entered from. They were routed, and the rest of his company regrouped, embarking into the Rhinos with a jaunt step. They were soon to enter the heart of the enemy’s territory, their capital.

Timbers readied himself, filling his emptied belt-mags with new rounds which easily weighed down his body, but continuous conditioning allowed him to be accustomed to it. Even though he wasn’t able to load on his person the extra ammo, the Puma had plenty of unused rounds for his SAW, enough to continue holding off an entire battalions worth in his eyes. He was almost ecstatic, if not for his current situation and the loss of his brothers. He owed it to Raptor for saving him, and now they were taking the fight to their headquarters. Numerous targets, and plenty of rounds to use…

…

… O’Brian’s platoon had driven away a surprise force that entered the park just as they did. Luckily, the use of the Pumas were the first to engage with their chain-mounted guns, making quick work of the ground forces. By weaving through the field debris, they were able to avoid most lethal shots from the light armor that accompanied them, but the concentrated fire from both the Rhinos and Grizzlies decimated what little plating they had. One round from the Grizzly’s main cannon reduced its internal operators into liquid, blowing the vehicle from the inside out using an Air-Burst round. He could only think what the inside would look like, and lucky for him, he had no need to.

“Jericho, Blythe. Ready your squads, we’re making for the War Council,” stated O’Brian. Both Raiders obliged, urging their respective squads to re-enter the Rhinos for protected transport.

He continued, turning to Dare over his comms for extended battlefield awareness, “Dare, do you have eyes on the objective?”

As the Puma carefully navigated through the streets of Artray, O’Brian studied his tactical display, and the Companies of Raven and Cobra were together as a collective unit as they marched to the eastern area of their objective. When they entered near an enemy group, points of red were briefly illuminated before disappearing after a set of tags, labeled ‘RAVN H-3-4’ and ‘CBRA A-2-8’, rounded a corner to a building presumably from an alley way. It was slow, but their progress was steady, he just needed them to make more noise.

“I have eyes on, it looks heavily fortified. Wait one,” reported Dare. As he observed the objective, he noted its defenses and relayed them to O’Brian.

From his angle and distance, he was able to make out a fair portion of their defenses from his scopes alone, which aided in his reconnaissance. The building itself was large, and sat within a raised outer wall that he noticed to be sandbagged on the other side. A wealth of Sellian soldiers patrolled within the compound, conducting maintenance checks on what looked to be automated defenses on the ground level. He also noticed a slight shimmer that surrounded the compound itself as rain fell, as well as a stray bullet or two from the east.

He also noted, that when it fired a counter-missile, the glow of the shimmering surface subsided momentarily to allow for the exit of their countermeasure, against aerial strafing. He knew that they couldn’t bombard the zone, since they needed the occupants from within alive.

“I’ve identified a shield generator, but I’ll need a distraction. Requesting permission to authorize use of an LGM,” said Dare.

“Wait one,” replied O’Brian as he forwarded the request to the fleet Tactical Operations Officer. The request was acknowledged, but they would have a small window to execute their plan. “You are a go, but we’ll have little time, since the fly-boys are pre-occupied trying to maintain air superiority.”

“Understood,” replied Dare.

He then swapped the use from his suppressed marksman rifle, to the larger, harder hitting option. The weapon was set on rubble he took from his surrounding area as aim support. He eyed the device that generated the shield surrounding the compound, and on his side, a missile battery was situated. His thinking was that if he directed a missile strike against that point, it would launch a counter, lowering the shield appropriately for him to take the shot.

“Ready, Sir,” Dare affirmed.

“Alright, patching you into a designated pilot. Stand by,” said O’Brian.

After several moments of Dare maintaining a sight line on his target, his comms were then connected to the pilot who would offer their services.

“This is H.F.P. ‘Scribbles’. How Copy?” Spoke the pilot.

“This is Sergeant Dare. I have a target that needs a splash,” replied Dare. “Are you capable?”

“Understood. I have a set of Mark 134s that need a home. I might need a laze’, so designate your target. I can drop in forty,” reported Scribbles.

Dare clicked a button atop his scope of his anti-material rifle, which was a powerful infrared laser which had a decent range, almost matching his rifle’s maximum range. But for the current distance, it was more than enough. He began circling his rifle in small circles, allowing for the pilot to be giving a general location of where to drop, and from there, the missiles would trail towards the end of the laser.

“You’re linked, the missiles are yours in three…two… send it. You have the bag,” reported Scribbles.

The missiles were sent, and from the corner of his eyes, a small trail of bright light exited the exhaust as they flew towards the end of the laser. He didn’t leave his eyes off the target, and saw the missile battery orient itself in the direction of incoming ordnance. He waited until the first counter was fired, lowering the shield for a moment, but he didn’t fire. He watched as the edges of the shield began to glow, closing halfway before launching the second counter to his second guided missile. It opened larger than before, and then he fired.

It took just over a second for the bullet to travel to its mark as he fired through the smoke caused by the missile battery. There was a small spark, and a shudder of the shield overhead; it had overloaded, and their shield was neutralized. However, he couldn’t risk its repair and fired a second shot into it, causing it to smoke profusely from its unintended entry.

From overhead, the missile battery had downed the first missile, sending shrapnel down from overhead, coincidentally colliding with the second counter-missile, leaving the last missile free to land onto the roof of the building. A quick flash of orange was seen, followed by a burst of smoke. As the dust settled, the fate of the local missile defenses were revealed, showing them to be nothing but torn to shreds from the concussive force and shrapnel the missile delivered. They were now clear to assault the Council Chambers, and they were going to go all out.

“You’re clear, Sir. We have splash, and shields are down,” reported Dare as he loaded a third round into the chamber of his rifle. “I’ve got you covered.”

“Good work. Stand by and cover our approach,” O’Brian said as the rest of his platoon made their cautious advanced through the now war-torn central city of the Sellian Capital. However, unknown to him, his squads were a building over from their objective, as indicated by a waypoint on his HUD.

“Since when were we so close to the objective,” said Grayson. “I bet if we didn’t assist Viper, we’d be on their doorstep by now.”

O’Brian opened his tac-map, and low and behold, their objective laid just on the other side of the building they previously inhabited with the Sellian ambush. There were routes of alleyways that led to the otherwise, and he was deciding to advance through them, and have the vehicles split evenly and take a wide berth in a flanking maneuver, Diverting attention to the sides and not from the enemy’s immediate sides.

He had the option now to return to it, or to attack from their current position to the North East of the compound they were supposed to target, and looking back, he knew they were close to the objective. But he couldn’t allow himself to let all of a Raider company die. He saved two, but he wished he could have saved more.

“Can’t let them take a total loss like that. I just wish we aided them sooner. Now we’re down an entire platoon, Raven and Cobra are advancing, but they don’t have armor for cover. They’re entirely on foot,” spoke O’Brian. He contemplated their support, and opted for the most logical. “Puma and Rhino teams, assist Cobra and Raven companies in their assault. If it moves, turn it to paste.”

He received a hearty ‘Aye Sir’ from the teams as they raced to their brothers and sisters in arms, with a single Grizzly following behind as added comfort for the troops. O’Brian and the rest of his platoon then took up their advance alongside their only Grizzly.

As they advanced, the sun rose, indicating that it was now mid-morning, and their visibility was at an all-time high. Even now, the roar of ship engines rang over head in a screech that ravaged their ears as they chased weary enemy pilots. With the blue sky above them, black specks were much more visible as they danced around in the sky and the frames of larger ships loomed over head as they exchanged fire against one another. It was aerial chaos, and their victory awaited their success.

Before they knew it, they had arrived where they last rested, with the fifth floor of the building was still riddled with holes and broken glass. O’Brian then ordered their dispersal, breaking down into fireteams. Timbers moved through the buildings with Ryse carrying all the ammo as they set up their machine-gun nest.

Timbers’ nest rested nicely above in a mid-level floor that overlooked the compound by roughly one-hundred meters. He chose the building with the thickest walls compared to the surrounding buildings. Some of the walls were blown out, he guessed from the explosions prior. Luckily, it gave him a decent enough view of the battlefield, and he readied himself for the call to engage.

Jericho and Blythe took their respective squads to wide, taking the routes of the alleyways and stood by in cover before O’Brian gave his orders. They were the most numerous, and at most strength. All of Bravo squad was absent and most of Alpha, leaving enough for a fireteam at best. Grayson stood by as Fox and Ryder scouted close to the exit of their alley way.

O’Brian stood by as he observed his tactical map, noting the path of the Pumas, Rhinos, and single Grizzly racing down a road opposite of where the Raiders were engaging, effectively catching a wealth of Sellian troopers and light vehicles off guard, as they were either run down, or gunned down by the vehicles. Their push was enough to disrupt the enemy, as he noticed a wealth of Raiders rapidly advance, with enemy indicators popping quickly into existence, but being equally extinguished as fast as they showed up. They were efficient, killers, and even he can tell how well they worked in small teams. Deadly, fast, and efficient; a trademark of earlier Raiders when covert ops were the regular.

“They’re certainly working the enemy into the ground,” stated Grayson as he peered over his shoulder. “Couldn’t be me,” he said with a nonchalant and condescending shrug, clearly mocking the poor enemy’s performance.

“When your rear gets hit by several tons of steel and lead, you can bet you won’t have a good time. Distract and destroy,” replied O’Brian and he readied himself. He checked his pouches for ammo and his gear in general, as did the others. When he was set, he gave the call:

“Raptor Company, Delta platoon. Assault is a go, on my signal. Stand by,” he radioed.

He had a plan to make it as flashy an entrance as possible, especially with the rapidly approaching Raven and Cobra companies. He wanted his forces to be supplemented with the rest of Raptor, but they were still busy, and the rest of his platoon was being medically treated. It was now or nothing.

“Badgers, Hunter. What’s your ETA?” He questioned.

A bout of static came through his radio before eventually clearing itself and a familiar sound came through his radio. It was Badgers.

“Entering the airspace now! But we practically entered contested space! Breaking through now! We’ll have you in thirty!” He reported, with his voice fading momentarily as he focused an order to a fellow Raider that shared the same space. “Load the one-fifty and get the thirty prepped! How are we on the seventy-five? Dammit Hunter, I said the seven-five, not the twenty!”

Badgers turned his attention back to O’Brian, not paying mind of having his officer wait, since his job was just as crucial to the operation as the boots on the ground.

“Sir, we have you. Stand by and get ready to move! Controls are mine…” he paused. And the sound of concern came over him as he reported to his officer, “Sir, you have a large enemy force approaching from the south. !” O’Brian was pleased with the assistance, and it was going to be a spectacle to behold. They still had some time, so his best bet was to take control over the compound, and wait for them to come, but Badgers had a different idea entirely.

Silently, tracers from the sky began raining down, with the whistle of their rounds filling the air beside the impacts they made that generated loud thumps and booms depending on the round. And all of it was concentrated on the compound’s courtyard.

O’Brian watched as the originator of the ordnance circle above them and bursts of tracers traversed the sky, enlarging as they grew closer before ultimately impacting the unfortunate souls before them. Chaos. Dust and explosions littered the ground, destroying emplacements and reinforcements of the compound. It was Death From Above, and even when attacks on the compound subsided, the reign of fire was simply redirected to the next group with O’Brian listening in over the all comms.

“Raven, Cobra. This is Raptor Delta 1-5. Danger close.”

Badgers fired into the large groups that gathered to his present, but delivered a well-placed shot of the one-hundred-and-fifty-millimeter cannon.

“Delivering High Explosive Air Burst One-Five-Oh mike-mike… Splash, twelve plus KIA. Switching to the Thirty,” reported Badgers. As he said, a slow firing burst of high explosive thirty-millimeter cannon rained down on scattering Sellian soldiers, reducing them to chunks of flesh and ash.

This attack continued for several passes, reducing the once staggering Enemy forces to a mere fraction of its former self. This allowed for the majority of the other Raider Companies to advance faster than before, with O’Brian and his platoon arriving cautiously to the compound gates.

“How are we on that enemy force from the south?” Inquired O’Brian.

“We got some ammo left, so we’ll give it to ‘em as a present. Won’t be enough to finish them, so you’d best hold out,” said Badgers.

“Copy. RTB to rearm and refuel,” replied O’Brian. And with that, Badgers left the comms chat, leaving O’Brian with the Naval command and his fellow Raiders when a voice rose in his head. It was Athena.

“For what purpose does a ship need for a tactic such as this? It seems redundant,” said Athena, a voice who had remained quiet until now.

“Well, if we used a ship’s cannons for ground support, then we’d most likely be caught in the vicinity. It’s just not viable as air-support, and it does wonders on infantry. Personally, it’s a favorite,” replied O’Brian as he gave a hand gesture for his fireteam to advance.

Fox was the first in the group and entered an opening in the wall. He did so cautiously, still unsure if the bombardment got all the enemy forces in the area. Even with an attack like that, there would still be survivors, so they had to be cautious.

With most of the platoon entering the compound grounds, the found it to be riddled with nothing but dirt craters and pieces of the enemy. It was a gruesome reality, that this compound was bristling with personnel, and in the manner of just several minutes, were reduced to nothing, with the only evidence of people having been present, were the blood-stained walls and barely recognizable limbs. But after securing the courtyard portion of the compound, O’Brian was soon met with the platoon commanders of Raven and Cobra companies. The first to speak was marked with a sigil of a raven on his chest plate, and the letters ‘JAKAL’ imprinted on his nameplate.

“2nd LT. Jakal, Raven Actual,” he presented himself, still new, but experienced enough to conduct himself well. “I have my men prepping to hunker down, a suspected enemy counteroffensive?”

O’Brian nodded, “It seems so. The gunship just spent the last of its ordnance on em, but they report they still have a sizable force. Hunker down along with Cobra in the surrounding buildings