Location: Western Outskirts, Virek
Date and Time: April 20, 2553 – 0930 Hours
The heat is stifling, the midday sun beating down on us as we move cautiously through the narrow streets of an abandoned town on the western outskirts of Virek. The buildings here are crumbling, left to decay after the fighting pushed the civilians out months ago. Now, it's a ghost town, with only the wind and dust to keep us company.
But we know better. The URF has been using places like this for months now, setting up ambushes, planting IEDs, and waiting for us to walk right into their traps. Every step we take feels like it could be our last.
I take point, leading Bravo Fireteam through the streets, my rifle up and ready. Santiago follows a few meters behind, his eyes sharp, scanning every window and doorway. Dash and O'Neill are covering the flanks, keeping a watchful eye on the alleyways.
It's quiet. Too quiet.
"Keep your eyes peeled," I murmur into the comms, my voice low but steady. "The URF likes to play dirty."
The squad acknowledges, their movements careful and deliberate. We've been in situations like this before, but there's something different about today. Something heavier in the air.
We're here to clear the town, to make sure the URF hasn't set up shop in one of these buildings. Command is worried they're planning something big—a raid or an assassination. Something that could shake up the balance on Virek.
And from what we've seen so far, I don't doubt it.
We reach an intersection, the street branching off in three directions. I hold up a fist, signaling the squad to stop. My gut is telling me something's off, but I can't quite put my finger on it.
"Dash, O'Neill, take the right flank. Santiago, with me. We'll clear the main street."
The team splits up, moving with practiced precision. We've done this a hundred times before, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous.
We move down the main street, the sound of our boots crunching against the gravel the only noise in the silence. The windows of the buildings are shattered, broken glass littering the ground. It feels like the whole place is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
I stop suddenly, my eyes narrowing as I spot something up ahead—a vehicle parked in the middle of the street, its windows dark, the engine off. It's an old civilian transport, the kind you'd expect to see in a place like this. But there's something about the way it's sitting there, perfectly positioned, that sets off alarm bells in my head.
"Hold up," I say, raising a hand to stop Santiago. "Something's not right."
He moves up beside me, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the vehicle. "You think it's rigged?"
"I don't know," I mutter, my heart racing. "But I'm not taking any chances."
I motion for Santiago to stay back as I move closer to the vehicle, my rifle raised. The closer I get, the more my gut tells me something's wrong. I can see it now—a small wire running from the base of the car into the ground. It's barely noticeable, but it's there.
"IED," I whisper into the comms, my voice tight. "We've got a rigged vehicle. Fall back."
As I turn to move back, there's a sudden sound—faint, but unmistakable. The click of a pressure plate.
My heart skips a beat.
"Move!" I shout, diving for cover just as the explosion rips through the air.
The blast slams into me, throwing me against the side of a building. My vision blurs, the sound of the explosion ringing in my ears as dust and debris rain down around me. For a moment, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my head, the world spinning as I struggle to get my bearings.
"Kowalski!" Santiago's voice cuts through the haze, and I feel a hand pulling me to my feet. I stumble, my legs shaky, but I'm still standing.
"I'm good," I grunt, though the pain in my side says otherwise. "Everyone okay?"
"We're good," Santiago replies, though his face is pale. "But that was close."
I glance back at the street where the vehicle had been. There's nothing left now but a smoldering crater, the debris scattered across the ground. If I'd been a few steps closer, I wouldn't be standing here right now.
"They're rigging the whole place," I mutter, my heart pounding in my chest. "They knew we'd come."
"We need to fall back," Santiago says, his voice urgent. "This whole town could be rigged."
I nod, knowing he's right. We can't stay here. The URF is using every dirty trick in the book, and we're walking right into it.
"Bravo, fall back," I say into the comms. "We're pulling out."
As we retreat, I can't help but feel the frustration bubbling up inside me. The URF doesn't fight fair. They don't engage in open combat. They hide, they rig explosives, they take hostages, and they strike when we're most vulnerable.
But that's war. And it's not going to stop just because I'm tired of it.
We regroup at the edge of the town, catching our breath as we radio in to Command. The mission was a bust, but we made it out alive. And right now, that's all that matters.