The dawn cracked open with an ear-piercing shriek of whistles and the thunder of artillery, the ground shuddering as shells tore into the outskirts of the town. Hector and Joseph jolted awake beside the smoldering remains of their campfire, instinct pulling them upright before thought could catch up.
"Get to positions! The Vektorians have broken past the line!" an officer bellowed, his voice ragged yet cutting through the chaos. His Arxtian uniform hung in tatters, blood and grime painting half his face, but still he waved men into motion - soldiers stumbling, drunkards shaking themselves sober, gamblers abandoning dice mid-roll.
The street became a storm of movement: boots scraping against cobblestone, rifles clattering into trembling hands, curses flying louder than the market bells that still dangled from a leaning tower. Civilians scattered in all directions, some ducking into the safety of cellars while others vanished into alleys like ghosts.
The officer's gaze locked onto Hector and Joseph, and with a grimace he staggered toward them. "You two - last time I checked we're still at war. Get your asses up and form at the east barricade! Move!" His bandaged hand jabbed toward the edge of town where the first tracers of gunfire already lit the smoky dawn.
Joseph slung his bag over his shoulder without bothering to fasten it. "So much for rest rotation," he muttered, knuckles whitening around the strap of his rifle.
Hector charged his rifle. His jaw tightened, eyes scanning the horizon where dust clouds rose like specters. "God damn it, I was starting to dream good, too."
The officer was already gone, dragging more stragglers into a shaky formation. Behind them, the once-boisterous tavern emptied into a desperate stream of soldiers, some still wiping ale from their chins, others stumbling barefoot into the dirt.
Hector and Joseph quickly joined the forming defensive column on the eastern edge of the town. An engineering mech hunched over the dirt, its arms gouging into the ground in furious strokes, kicking up clouds of dust and sparks as it tried to cut a trench line deep enough for cover. With its other arm, it dragged the gutted frame of a rusting bus into place, welding it against shattered concrete as makeshift shielding. Enemy fire clanged against the metal hide, the collective strikes ringing like a massive bell.
"Holy shit, they're this close?!" Joseph shouted, diving beside a cracking barrier just meters from the mech, his hand clamped over his helmet as stray rounds hissed past. "What the hell happened to the front? It was holding fine when we left!"
Hector slid in beside him, pressing his back against the warm, vibrating concrete. He adjusted the sling of his rifle, checked the sights with a practiced flick, and steadied his breathing, jaw tight. "I don't know - maybe it's those conscripts. They were never a good replacement for us regulars in the first place."
Joseph risked a glance over the barrier. Beyond the churned dust, figures were moving - shadows darting between skeletal cars, flashes of muzzle fire breaking the morning haze. A shell detonated against a storefront inside the town, hurling glass and stone into the street like shrapnel rain.
"Looks like we're the plug in the damn hole," Joseph growled, ducking back down.
"Yeah, no shit!" Hector said, raising his rifle, and letting out a burst of aimed fire at the moving figures. Joseph followed through, their shots, desynced with the other soldiers scattered around the defensive area.
The mech let out a final groan of its hydraulics as it slammed another chunk of scrap into the growing barricade before finally shutting down. Its pilot exits the burnt out mech as quickly as he managed the trenches now in use by his fellow solders. From behind, a commanding voice erupts "don't let up, keep shooting at those bastards!"
The battle for the town had begun.