Rounds cracked through the air in a savage rhythm, tracer fire carving red streaks against the settling dusk. The exchange between Vektorians and Arxtians grew fiercer by the second, every burst answered with heavier retaliation. Men in the line fell as quickly as replacements scrambled to fill the gaps, each body just another piece in the grinding machine.
The town's defense, though persistent, yields heavily on the already battered soldiers. Every shout, every order carried the desperation of men trying to hold the line.
"Shit, I'm hit! Medic!" a soldier screamed, just off Joseph's left flank. His cry drew heads, but only for an instant - the man lay writhing, crimson pouring from the ragged stump where his arm had been. The dirt beneath him turned black and wet, soaking fast.
Joseph flinched, instinct dragging him half a step toward the soldier before a fresh burst of incoming fire forced him back against the barrier. Grit rained down from the cracked concrete above his helmet.
"Fuck, I can't get close!" Joseph growled, half-ducked in his position.
Hector slammed the spent mag free and rammed another into place. He snapped his head toward Joseph, "Use your smoke grenade or something!"
Joseph's hand fumbled at his belt until his fingers closed around the metal cylinder. He yanked the pin with his finger, and lobbed the grenade out into the open street.
It clattered once before bursting alive with a steady hiss, thick gray clouds spewing outward and swallowing the road in a thick shroud.
"Cover's up! Move, move!" Hector shouted, leaning over the barrier just enough to fire a short burst into the vague silhouettes beyond the smoke. The figures staggered, unsure, the advance slowed.
Joseph pressed his back to the barrier, chest heaving. "That's gonna buy us seconds- maybe!"
"Don't worry, We'll cover you!" Hector barked back, teeth grit, his rifle bucking against his shoulder.
Without another word, Joseph lunged from cover, boots pounding into the dirt as he vanished into the churning smoke. Shouts and gunfire muffled around him, reduced to echoes in the gray.
Through the haze, he caught sight of the their man, sprawled on the ground. Another shape loomed over the man, weapon raised.
Without hesitation, Joseph pulls out his sidearm and let out three wild shots, staggering the figure before it collapses to the ground.
His hands finally found the downed soldier, slick with blood, the man groaning weakly.
"I Got you! hang on!" Joseph grunted, heaving the dead weight across his shoulders in a fireman's carry. The man's blood soaked into his uniform instantly, hot and heavy.
Providing cover from the concrete barrier, Hector caught sight of Joseph's silhouette carrying another shape through the smoke, and behind them, a darker form is closing fast. He snapped his rifle up, and let off a burst. The figure in pursuit dropped into the haze without much resistance.
"Move your ass, Joseph!" Hector roared, keeping his sights fixed until Joseph broke through the curtain of smoke.
Joseph barreled the last few steps, collapsing behind the barrier with the wounded man slung across him. His chest heaved, sweat and smoke stinging his eyes as he lowered the soldier down against the concrete.
"Medic! Over here! He's bleeding out!" Joseph screams hard, his gaze fixed on the raw stump where an arm should've been. Blood surged in terribly, slipping past his fingers no matter how hard he pressed down.
Hector dropped beside him, slamming another fresh magazine into his rifle with a metallic snap before stealing a glance at the mangled stump. His jaw tightened. "Where the hell's our radio?"
Joseph didn't look up, hands still pressed against the bleeding mess. "We left it on the safe zone for the conscripts to use during rotation, remember?"
"Shit… you're right." Hector dug into his vest and pulled out a sealed pouch. "Here, instant hemostatic. It'll buy him time."
Joseph snatched the small packet from Hector, tearing it open with his teeth. The powder inside spilled across the stump in a white cloud that quickly turned crimson as it met the pumping blood. The wounded soldier thrashed, a ragged cry escaping his throat before shock dulled it to a whimper.
"Hold him steady!" Joseph barked, Hector followed, as he pressed the dressing hard into the wound. His arms trembled with the effort, blood slicking down his sleeves.
Hector braced the soldier's shoulders with one arm, eyes flicking between Joseph's work and the smoke ahead. His other hand hovered on his rifle, tense, and ready.
The bleeding slowed, but only barely.
"Damn it," Joseph muttered through clenched teeth. "This'll keep him alive, but not for long."
Before Hector could answer, a fresh volley of gunfire cracked from the smoke - too close, too many. Then, out of the haze, figures surged forward, not enemies, but Arxitan soldiers, weapons blazing as they cut into the advancing Vektorians.
A medic dropped to his knees beside Joseph, his satchel already open. "I've got him! You two, cover me!" he barked, not waiting for an answer as his hands went straight to the blood-soaked stump.
Hector and Joseph locked eyes for the briefest moment, relieved. Both men snapped back to their rifles, shifting to guard the medic while the fresh squad laid down suppressing fire.
---
The town stood.
Smoke hung low over shattered rooftops, and the air stank of cordite, blood, and burnt oil. Reinforcements had pushed the Vektorians back hours ago, but victory felt hollow. Mechs now patrolled the battered perimeter, their searchlights sweeping across locations held by enemy forces hours ago.
Battered trucks rumbled slowly through the streets, collecting the wounded first, then the dead. Soldiers moved grimacing, stepping over bodies - friend and foe alike - that carpeted the roads leading to the barricades.
Joseph sat slumped against the husk of a building, helmet off, sweat and grime streaking his face. Hector stood nearby, watching the cleanup as he chewed on a protein stick.
"Want some?" Hector asked, extending an extra unopened packet. "Grade A, synthetic beef. Goddamn gourmet."
Joseph glanced at it, then at the stretcher teams hauling another mangled body past them. He let out a dry chuckle, hollow and tired. "Hell of a dinner show."
"Better than starving, come on now," Hector muttered, shaking the wrapper at him until Joseph finally took it.
The rumble of engines and the clatter of stretchers filled the air.
Somewhere, a mech's hydraulic joints hissed as it shifted rubble aside, revealing another pair of lifeless boots beneath.
Joseph tore the wrapper open, staring blankly at the pressed block of nutrients before biting down. "Gourmet indeed...not. This tastes like dirt."
"Everything does," Hector replied around his own chew, the corner of his mouth twitching in a weary smirk. His eyes never left the smoke-choked horizon, where the sounds of distant gunfire still crackled.
"I heard the guy you saved earlier made it. He'd probably get a bionic arm if he's lucky, then pressed back to service."
Joseph exhaled slowly, the protein bar halfway gone. "Unfortunate bastard. He could have gone into retirement with that kind of injury."
After a while, civilians began to pour out of their hiding places. Some crawled up from basement doors, others crept from shadowed alleys that had barely seen daylight during the barrage.
They moved with the same exhaustion as the soldiers, shoulders hunched, mixed expression of anxiety and despair over what they lost during the battle.
Dust clung to their hair and clothes, making them look like specters of the ruins themselves. The children, those few still alive, clutched rags or dented cans, wide-eyed but silent, too used to the thunder of artillery to cry.
Old men leaned on sticks fashioned from rebar or splintered wood, giving the same stare the soldiers carried.
Women shuffled with baskets and satchels pressed tight against their chests, as if afraid someone might take the little they'd managed to keep.
Hector finally lowered himself beside Joseph, unbuckling his helmet and dragging a filthy sleeve across his sweat-streaked brow. He let out a dry chuckle, almost out of place in the ruin. "Did I ever tell you I used to live in a noble's house?"
Joseph raised an eyebrow, turning his head with tired intrigue. "No shit?"
"Yeah," Hector said, lips quirking faintly. "I was a library assistant for a while. Quiet work. Shelving, sorting, dusting books no one read anymore. Not a bad life, considering." He paused, eyes drifting toward the cracked skyline.
"Until the southern side of the bunker colony caved in. Whole district swallowed in a night. Foundations had been rotting for centuries - they finally gave out. Buried every last one of them."
A shadow fell across them. Joseph glanced up to see a woman standing a few paces away, a child clinging to her tattered shawl. Her expression obviously tired and and desperate.
"Water," she rasped, voice barely carrying. "Do you have… any to spare?"
Joseph instinctively reached for his canteen, then hesitated, thumb pressed against the cap. It was less than half full. His eyes flicked to Hector.
Without a word, Hector dug into his satchel and produced a small tin, handing it over. "Don't drink it all at once," he said.
The woman's hands trembled as she accepted it, nodding a silent thanks before retreating back toward the alley she'd emerged from. The child gave them one wide, unblinking look before vanishing with her.
For a moment, Joseph kept his eyes on the empty street where the woman and child had vanished. "Not much different from us… I kinda felt bad hesitating," he muttered.
"Difference is," Hector said, easing his back against the wall, "we signed up for this life. To eat, to fight, to live. These people? They're just stuck wherever the war decides to spill over. And don't beat yourself up - clean water's worth more than gold now. Anyone would've paused."
"You didn't," Joseph shot back, brow furrowed.
Hector gave a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Please. You'd hand me every drop left in your canteen if you thought I needed it."
Joseph smirked faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't test me on that."