"Haaa!"
"Aghhhh!"
"Aaaahhhhhh!"
"Idiots! Get inside the shed!"
"Raise the shields!"
"Help! Somebody help me!"
Screams tore through the air, jagged and endless. Smoke and the stench of scorched flesh swirled together, thick and choking, crawling into every soldier's lungs.
The ground itself hissed and steamed, bubbling where acid had eaten through the dirt, leaving dark, smoking scars.
The rain wasn't rain—it was molten death, each drop a tiny, burning knife that shredded armor and burned flesh with the same ease.
Soldiers fell in heaps, writhing, clawing at the ground, their screams twisting into hoarse, wet gurgles. Helmets melted like candle wax. Weapons warped and bent in screaming protest.
Some tried to raise shields, but the metal blistered under the assault. Others ran blindly, slipping in the caustic puddles forming everywhere, screams turning into panicked shrieks as the rain cut through them.
