The ruins of Vetra-9 groaned under the weight of battle. Crumbled towers leaned like broken teeth against the horizon, their steel skeletons wrapped in smoke. The air was thick with the stench of plasma burns, insect ichor, and scorched concrete. Hivebugs swarmed through the wreckage, shrieking with alien hunger, mandibles clashing like knives.
And cutting through the chaos, the staccato rhythm of a new sound: Carbine X.
---
Jinx Alvarez – Rapid Assault Unit
Jinx sprinted between collapsed walls, lungs burning, boots pounding on cracked pavement. A swarm of crawlers snapped at his heels, their talons sparking as they scraped the debris. He skidded to cover behind a fallen beam and whipped his Carbine X to his shoulder.
"Eat this!" he yelled, grinning even as sweat stung his eyes.
The rifle barked, bursts of light tearing through the Hivebugs. Lighter than his old model. Faster. The recoil barely nudged his arms. He felt like the weapon was part of him, responding before he even thought.
Then—click. Empty.
Normally, he'd curse, fumble, lose precious seconds. But the Carbine X spat the empty micro mag from its chamber with a satisfying snap, dropping it into the dirt. In the same fluid motion, Jinx slapped another in, hardly breaking rhythm.
He laughed out loud. "Now this—this is how you dance!"
He dove from cover, rolling across rubble, weapon humming as fresh bursts sprayed across the swarm. For once, reloads weren't killing his momentum. For once, he felt like he was faster than the bugs.
"Thanks, Renegade," Jinx muttered between laughs. "You crazy bastard."
---
Stone Varga – Heavy Infantry
Stone's boots crushed broken concrete as he took his position at the flank. Calm, steady, unmoving—like his name. His squad braced behind him, drawing confidence from his quiet presence.
He raised his Carbine X and fired in controlled bursts, each shot measured. The grouping was tighter than his old rifle, the stabilizers keeping the barrel perfectly aligned. Every Hivebug that crested the rubble fell with mechanical precision.
He reloaded—click, eject, slap, chamber—done in seconds. Smooth. Clean. Reliable.
Stone allowed himself a faint nod. "Stable," he muttered under his breath. "Reliable. Just like him."
The men behind him fired more boldly, seeing that their line was unshaken. Hivebugs died by the dozen, and Stone Varga stood like a wall, his Carbine X an extension of his will.
---
Whisper Kade – Combat Medic
The medbay evacuation was chaos. Smoke poured from the shattered transport, injured soldiers screaming as Hivebugs closed in. Whisper crouched low, pressing a medpatch into a bleeding shoulder, her own rifle clutched awkwardly in one hand.
A crawler lunged at her from the flank. Instinct snapped her Carbine X up. Burst-fire stitched its head into pieces. The weapon kicked gently, letting her keep pressure on the wound even as she fired.
Then—click. Empty.
The mag ejected itself. She reloaded with one hand, almost without thinking. Seconds she couldn't spare were saved. The patient lived because she didn't need both hands for fumbling.
She whispered softly, words only the wounded man and herself could hear: "You're saving them, Sirius. Even here."
---
Sparks Novik – Weapons Systems Operator
Sparks cursed as her console smoked, a Hivebug plasma blast frying half her turret control network. Sparks had always relied on heavy systems, not sidearms. She hated rifles. They jammed, they misfired, they felt clumsy.
But when a winged drone dove at her position, Sparks pulled her Carbine X and squeezed. The shot burned straight through its thorax. Clean. No jam. No flicker of misfire.
She froze for a heartbeat. Then another drone came. She fired again—perfect.
Her lips twitched into the faintest grin. "Okay, Renegade," she muttered, sighting another target. "You win this round. This one works."
She turned back to her failing turrets, but this time with a new confidence.
---
Bear Ivanov – Mechanized Support
Bear's exo-frame screeched as a Hivebug slammed into it, acid burning through the plating. Alarms howled in his cockpit. With a roar, Bear ripped the harness free and climbed out, landing hard on the rubble.
The swarm surged toward him. Normally, he'd be doomed without his frame. But now—he had his Carbine X.
He raised it in his massive hands, firing bursts that shredded the bugs. The weapon felt almost weightless, yet its impact was undeniable. Micro mags popped out smoothly, Bear slapping in fresh ones without hesitation.
"Renegade!" Bear bellowed over the chaos, laughter booming. "Your toy packs a punch!"
He charged headlong, his rifle chattering, Hivebugs falling like wheat before a scythe.
---
Shade – Recon / Sniper Unit
Shade crouched in the shadows of a ruined tower, his long sniper rifle laid across his knees. He preferred distance, silence, precision. But when a pack of skitterlings scrambled up the wall toward him, he had no time to set up.
His hand went to his Carbine X.
The weapon whispered in his grip, firing with precision far beyond what he expected from a light rifle. He cut down the skitterlings with minimal noise, each mag ejecting smoothly, reloads flowing like water.
Shade said nothing. No smile. No words. He only adjusted his scope, checked the field, and gave the faintest nod of respect.
---
Aftermath – Soldiers' Gathering
The battle slowed. Smoke drifted in broken tendrils through the ruins. Soldiers slumped against rubble, breathing hard. Hivebug carcasses littered the streets.
A young recruit sat clutching his Carbine X, eyes wide. "I don't know who made this thing," he whispered, voice trembling. "But it saved me. Saved all of us."
Another soldier spat blood, shaking his head in disbelief. "Weapon like this… it's not standard issue. Someone's got brains in FAWS."
Jinx chuckled, tossing his last empty mag aside. "Oh, you'll hear the name. Renegade Blake. Our crazy little miracle worker."
Stone grunted in agreement. Bear laughed until his shoulders shook. Whisper smiled faintly as she wrapped a bandage. Sparks just smirked and muttered something about "finally working right." Shade only leaned against the wall, silent as ever.
But every one of them knew: Sirius Blake had changed the battlefield.
---
Far from the ruins, in the quiet hum of FAWS HQ, Sirius Blake sat hunched over another workbench, goggles askew, grease smudging his cheek. He was tinkering with a new mechanism, humming to himself.
"ARI," he said absently, "record frontline feedback."
> "Recording complete," ARI replied. "Initial analysis: Carbine X improved infantry combat efficiency by 42%. Casualties reduced by 31%. Morale… immeasurable."
Sirius grinned, not even looking up from his tinkering. "Good. That means they're alive."
The war outside raged on. The Hivebugs would return in greater numbers. But for now, the soldiers had their weapon, their shield, their hope.
And though they called him Renegade, Sirius Blake was simply doing what he always had: fixing his "babies," one screw, one mag, one miracle at a time.