"Retreat! Fall back to the line!"
Roger moved through the meat-grinder, his boots slipping on blood-slicked stone. A roar erupted to his left as a dragon of liquid fire arched over a trench, turning three pursuing Imperial operatives into screaming, human-shaped torches. Roger caught the eye of the Federation flamethrower operator and gave a grim thumbs-up. The man didn't stop, already pivoting his weapon toward a hidden tunnel entrance.
Bang-bang-bang!
Roger caught a glimpse of an Imperial MG team setting up a Type 92. He didn't think; he just reacted, emptying half a magazine into the nest.
[TACTICAL DATA UPDATED]
Machine Gunner Neutralized: +10 Combat Data
Assistant Gunner Neutralized: +8 Combat Data
"Save me..."
A hand clamped onto Roger's ankle, nearly tripping him. He looked down to see a Federation soldier whose left leg had been shredded by a grenade. The flesh was a ruin of black and crimson.
"Medic!" Roger shouted, but help was already there.
Yves-Shechter, one of the 96th Division's most seasoned medics, dove into the dirt beside them. A bullet whined off a nearby stump, showering Yves in wood chips, but the man didn't even flinch. He was a machine of cold, professional efficiency.
Impressive, Roger thought, providing cover as Yves hoisted the wounded man onto his back.
"Can you make it, Doc?" Roger barked over the roar of artillery.
"Watch the flank!" Yves grunted, already moving toward the rear with the weight of the man on his shoulders.
Roger cleared two more Imperial scouts trying to intercept them before pivoting back toward the center of the line. The retreat was a nightmare. Through the smoke, he saw Sergeant Howell covering a group of terrified recruits, including Hollywood.
"Sergeant! Duck!" Roger roared, spotting an Imperial gunner in a high crevice.
He fired, catching the gunner in the throat, but the burst had already left the enemy barrel. Howell collapsed as a round shattered his shin. Hollywood hesitated for a fraction of a second—a lifetime on this ridge—before gritting his teeth and rushing back to pull Howell to safety.
Bang! Bang!
Two more shots rang out. Hollywood spun and crumpled beside the Sergeant, blood flowering across his shoulder.
"Damn it!" Roger hissed. Even with his interference, the "script" of the world seemed determined to take its toll. He liquidated the snipers who had hit Hollywood, but the area was becoming a kill zone.
A heavy naval shell shrieked overhead, detonating a hundred meters away. The blast vaporized a cluster of trees and sent a shower of splinters through the air like shrapnel.
Through the rising fire, Roger spotted a familiar silhouette: Smitty-Rick. His Browning was gone, his hands clutched around an M1911 sidearm. He was sprinting for his life, a trail of dust kicked up by a chasing string of machine-gun fire at his heels.
"Rick! Move! Don't you dare stop!"
Roger charged toward him, his gaze locking onto the muzzle flashes of the Imperial nest pinning Smitty down.
Bang-bang-bang-bang.
At this range, Roger's Ballistic Proficiency was nearly surgical. The gunner and the loader slumped over their weapon instantly.
But Roger's relief was short-lived. A tide of khaki figures—dozens of them—swarmed from a nearby cave, bayonets leveled. Roger pulled the trigger.
Click. Empty.
Damn it! He looked at the charging swarm, less than ten meters away. He didn't have time to reload manually. But then, the icon in his vision pulsed.
[INNATE TALENT: COMBAT FOCUS - READY]
"Come on, then!" Roger roared.
The world slowed. The yelling of the enemy became a deep, guttural drone. The dirt kicked up by the bullets hung in the air like static.
With the Omni-system guiding his nerves, Roger's hands were a blur. He seated a fresh clip, the bolt slamming home with a sound like a thunderclap in the silence.
Bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang-bang.
He didn't waste a single bullet. Before the first clip had even hit the dirt, a second one was in. He emptied that too, his focus so intense that he could see the individual rotations of the brass as it ejected.
The five seconds expired.
The thirty Imperial operatives who had been seconds from skewering him were now a pile of corpses. Roger didn't wait to admire the work. He turned and sprinted toward the cliffside.
Whistle -- BOOM.
The sky opened up. Federation naval shells began to rain down on the ridge, turning the chasing Imperial swarm into a blackened graveyard. Roger reached the edge of the cliff, where the rope nets swayed in the wind. Smitty-Rick was there, leaning against a rock and gasping for air.
"Thank you, Roger," Smitty panted. "Twice in one day. I'm starting to feel like a damsel in distress."
"Don't get used to it," Roger replied, his eyes scanning the chaos behind them. "Where's Doss?"
Smitty pointed toward the fire. Doss was staggering out of the smoke, a Federation soldier draped over his back. Roger hurried over to help him lower the man, but one look at the soldier's dilated pupils and lack of pulse told the story.
"He's gone, Doss," Roger said quietly.
"No... maybe there's a chance. Down at the aid station," Doss insisted, his eyes brimming with tears through the soot on his face.
Roger looked at the medic, then back at the ridge. The artillery was still pounding the summit, but the Imperial Guard was already crawling back out of the holes.
"Get him down there, Rick," Roger said, handing the dead man's tags to Doss. "I'm staying."
"What?" Smitty stared at him. "Are you insane? The order is to fall back!"
"I have work to do," Roger said, patting the M1 Garand. In his mind, the Omni-system was flickering with potential data. This wasn't just a retreat; it was a target-rich environment.
"I'm staying too," Doss said, his voice regaining its steel. "I can hear them. People are calling for me out there in the fire. I have to try."
"You're both out of your minds!" Smitty screamed, swearing a blue streak. He looked at the rope net, then at the fire, and finally at Roger. With a growl of pure frustration, he kicked a rock and checked his pistol.
"Damn it," Smitty spat. "I still owe you a life, Roger. I'm a lot of things, but I don't default on my debts. If we're going to be crazy, we'll be crazy together."