Location: Abandoned Factory District, Virek
Date and Time: March 22, 2553 – 0900 Hours
The air smells of rust and decay, the abandoned factory looming over us like a forgotten relic of a world that doesn't exist anymore. The wind howls through the broken windows, rattling the old machinery that's been left to rot. It's a desolate place, the kind of place where danger can hide in every shadow.
"Eyes sharp," I say, my voice low as we move through the rubble-strewn alleyways. Bravo Fireteam is with me, their rifles up, scanning every corner as we approach the target.
We've been tasked with securing this factory district after reports that URF forces are using it as a supply hub. It should be a straightforward mission, but nothing about this war has been straightforward. Not since I took over as Fireteam Leader.
Santiago is up front, moving with the easy confidence he's known for. O'Neill and Dash cover our flanks, their faces focused, tense. We've been on edge since the ambush two weeks ago. Every step we take feels like we're walking into another trap.
We reach the main building, a rusted-out warehouse that's seen better days. The door is barely hanging on its hinges, creaking as the wind pushes against it.
"Looks abandoned," O'Neill mutters, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.
"Yeah, but so did the last place," I reply, my gut telling me not to trust what I'm seeing. "Stay sharp."
We breach the door, moving into the warehouse in a tight formation. The interior is dark, the air thick with dust and the smell of old oil. Crates are stacked along the walls, and there's a faint echo of machinery humming in the distance.
It's quiet. Too quiet.
"Bravo, fan out," I say, signaling for the team to spread out and secure the area.
We move quickly, clearing room after room, but there's nothing. No sign of URF forces. Just empty halls and old machinery left to rust.
"Where the hell is everyone?" Dash asks, glancing at me.
Before I can answer, there's a sudden crash, followed by the unmistakable sound of gunfire.
"Contact!" Santiago shouts, diving for cover as bullets ricochet off the metal walls.
I drop behind a stack of crates, my heart racing as the sound of gunfire fills the air. The URF forces have been waiting for us. They knew we were coming.
"Return fire!" I shout, popping up to fire a few rounds toward the enemy. The warehouse is a maze of cover and shadows, the rebels using the terrain to their advantage. We're pinned.
"They're everywhere!" O'Neill yells, firing his rifle in short, controlled bursts as the rebels press in.
I try to get a better angle, moving to a position where I can see more of the enemy. But as soon as I step out from cover, pain explodes in my side. A sharp, burning pain that takes my breath away.
I stumble, my rifle slipping from my hands as I fall to the ground. The world tilts, and for a moment, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears.
"Kowalski's hit!" Santiago shouts, his voice distant.
I try to move, but the pain is too much. I can feel the blood seeping through my armor, the wet warmth spreading across my side. My vision blurs, the gunfire fading into the background as darkness starts to creep in at the edges of my vision.
The next thing I know, I'm on a stretcher, being carried out of the warehouse. The firefight is still going, but it feels distant now. Like it's happening to someone else.
"Hang in there, Kowalski," Santiago mutters, his face appearing above me for a brief moment before everything fades to black.
Location: UNSC Field Hospital, Avenport, Virek
Date and Time: March 23, 2553 – 1000 Hours
I wake up to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the sterile smell of a hospital room. My side aches, a dull, throbbing pain that reminds me of the firefight in the warehouse. I try to sit up, but the pain flares, forcing me back down.
"Easy," a soft voice says from beside me.
I turn my head and see her. She's standing next to my bed, adjusting the IV drip with practiced ease. She's wearing the standard-issue medical uniform, but there's something about her—something that makes me pause.
Her hair is pulled back into a neat bun, and her eyes—bright and focused—lock onto mine with a warmth I didn't expect.
"You're lucky," she says, offering a small smile. "That shot missed your vitals by a few inches."
I try to smile back, but it comes out more like a grimace. "Guess I've got good timing."
She chuckles softly, the sound light and easy, cutting through the sterile atmosphere of the hospital. "Or bad timing, depending on how you look at it."
I can't help but laugh, even though it hurts. There's something refreshing about her presence—something that makes me forget, for just a moment, about the war outside.
"What's your name?" I ask, my voice still rough from the painkillers.
"Nurse Emily Carter," she replies, her smile widening just a little. "But you can call me Emily."
"Thanks, Emily," I say, my eyes meeting hers. "For patching me up."
"It's my job," she replies, but there's a softness in her voice, something more personal than just duty.
She finishes adjusting the IV and steps back, but she doesn't leave. She lingers for a moment, her eyes scanning my face like she's trying to figure me out.
"You're going to be okay," she says after a moment, her voice quiet. "Just need to rest."
"Yeah, but I bet that's not going to be easy with all this war going on."
Emily smiles again, that same warmth in her eyes. "I've seen worse. You're tougher than you think."
There's a beat of silence between us, something unspoken hanging in the air. I'm not sure what it is, but it's there. A connection, maybe. Subtle, but undeniable.
"Well," she says, breaking the silence, "I've got other patients to check on. But I'll be back to check on you later."
I nod, watching her leave. The room feels a little emptier without her in it.
As I lay back, my mind still foggy from the pain and the medication, I can't help but think about her. About the way she looked at me, the way her voice softened when she spoke. It's nothing, I tell myself. Just a nurse doing her job.