Location: Outer Hills, Virek
Date and Time: March 11, 2553 – 1100 Hours
The wind whips through the hills, kicking up dust and loose gravel as we move silently toward the target. My mind is laser-focused, running through every detail of the mission plan, every potential threat. There's no room for error today.
We've been sent to clear out a URF weapons cache hidden in these hills—a critical strike meant to cut off their supply chain. It should be simple, but I know better than to trust "simple" in a war zone.
This is my first mission as Fireteam Leader. My first real test.
The terrain is rough, and the hills make visibility tough, with long shadows stretching across the landscape. Santiago is a few meters ahead, moving with the easy confidence that comes from years of fighting. O'Neill is close behind me, his rifle raised, eyes scanning every ridge. The rest of Bravo Fireteam is spread out in a tight formation, covering every angle.
I feel the weight of it all—the responsibility. Every move we make, every order I give—it's on me. If something goes wrong, it's my call. And if we don't make it back? That's on me too.
"Bravo, hold position," I say quietly into the comms, signaling for the team to stop. We're getting close to the target. The cache is supposed to be just beyond the next ridge. I need a moment to survey the area, to think through our approach.
I pull out my binoculars, scanning the ridge and the valley beyond. Nothing. No movement. But that doesn't mean it's safe. The URF knows we're coming. They always do.
"Looks clear," Santiago mutters, his voice low as he joins me. "But I don't like it."
I nod, feeling the same unease gnawing at me. "It's too quiet."
We've been in enough firefights to know that quiet doesn't mean safe. If anything, it means the opposite.
I key the comms again. "Bravo, we're moving up. Stay sharp."
We advance slowly, keeping low as we approach the ridge. My heart pounds in my chest, adrenaline sharpening my senses. Every step feels heavier, like the earth itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
As we crest the ridge, the valley below comes into view, and there it is—the weapons cache. A small structure built into the side of the hill, camouflaged but unmistakable. It looks abandoned, but I don't trust it.
"Looks like it's been here a while," O'Neill says, crouching beside me.
I nod, still scanning the area. "Santiago, take point. O'Neill, cover the rear. Let's move in slow."
The team moves into position, advancing cautiously toward the cache. My pulse quickens as we close the distance. This is where things get dangerous. If the URF is hiding out, they'll be waiting for us inside.
We reach the entrance, and I signal for Santiago to breach. He steps up, placing a small charge on the door. The blast is controlled, quiet, and the door swings open with a low groan.
I raise my rifle, my heart racing as we move inside.
The interior is dark, lit only by faint strips of light leaking through cracks in the structure. Weapons and crates are stacked along the walls, but there's no sign of the URF—no sign of life at all.
"Clear," Santiago whispers, sweeping the room.
I move deeper into the building, my rifle trained on every corner. My nerves are on edge, waiting for something—anything—to jump out at us. But it doesn't come.
"This is too easy," O'Neill mutters, his voice tight with tension.
He's right. The cache is here, untouched. But where are the rebels? Where's the resistance? My gut twists with unease. This doesn't feel right.
I step forward, reaching for the comms. "Bravo Team to Command, target secured. Weapons cache intact, but no sign of enemy forces. Advise on next move."
There's a pause on the line, then Gunnery Sergeant Baird's voice comes through, steady and calm. "Copy, Bravo. Secure the area and prepare for extraction. Intel suggests the URF may have pulled out. We'll confirm."
"Copy that," I say, but the unease lingers.
We start securing the weapons, cataloging the crates and marking the supplies for extraction. The team works quickly, but the tension hasn't lifted. We all feel it—something's off.
I glance toward the entrance, my nerves still on edge. My instincts are screaming at me to stay sharp, to watch for anything unusual. And then I see it.
Movement.
Just a flicker, out of the corner of my eye—something shifting in the shadows.
"Hold up," I say quietly, my eyes narrowing as I step toward the entrance. My heart pounds in my chest as I raise my rifle, scanning the area outside.
And then it hits me.
An ambush.
"Get down!" I shout, diving for cover just as the first shot rings out.
The world explodes into chaos. Bullets tear through the air, ricocheting off the walls as the URF forces come out of hiding, opening fire from the ridges above.
"We're pinned!" O'Neill shouts, his voice tight with panic as he scrambles for cover.
I slam against the wall, my mind racing. We're trapped inside the cache, surrounded. This was their plan all along—let us walk into the trap, then hit us when we're vulnerable.
"Return fire!" I shout, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my chest. "Santiago, take the flank! O'Neill, cover him!"
The team moves into action, firing back at the URF forces as they advance. The sound of gunfire is deafening, the air thick with dust and smoke. I can hear the bullets whizzing past, slamming into the walls around me, but I force myself to stay calm.
I've trained for this. I've been through worse. But this time, it's different. This time, I'm the one in charge.
I pull out a grenade, lobbing it toward the nearest group of rebels. The explosion rocks the ground, sending debris flying and scattering the enemy forces.
"We need to get out of here!" Santiago shouts, his voice barely audible over the gunfire.
I nod, my mind racing as I think through our options. We can't stay here. We're too exposed. But getting out? That's going to be the hard part.
"Bravo, fall back!" I shout, signaling for the team to move toward the exit. "We're not dying here!"
We retreat toward the entrance, firing as we go, trying to keep the rebels off balance. The gunfire is relentless, the enemy forces closing in from all sides. My heart pounds in my chest, but I push forward, leading the team through the chaos.
We make it outside, but the fight is far from over. The rebels are still coming, their weapons flashing in the distance as they pursue us down the hillside.
"We need support!" I shout into the comms, my voice strained. "Command, this is Bravo Fireteam! We're under heavy fire, need immediate extraction!"
The comms crackle to life, Baird's voice sharp and clear. "Hold your position, Bravo. Support is inbound. Stay sharp."
I grit my teeth, glancing at the team. We're exhausted, outnumbered, but we're still standing. And as long as we're still standing, we're still fighting.
"Let's give them hell!" I shout, raising my rifle as we make our last stand.