The group gracefully stepped over the corpses and pools of blood, moving onwards as Mark was wrought with conflicting thoughts.
'Do I... go to the vault? Do I take Jeremy? Or should I... do something? I... I don't know! What am I supposed to do!?'
Unsure of his decision, he progressed forward, gunfire sharply echoing down the hallway at the final left turn. They halted before slowing to a snail-pace, peeking around the corner and spotting two black-plated figures ceaselessly firing into a side room. Mark could hear distorted voices coming from their suits, their normal voices slightly quieter inside.
The aged technician glanced too, seeing them clearly as they stood out from the white hallways, black as the Void. They were equipped in a one-piece suit with small, sharpened horns sticking out of their head. The man exhaled, turning to Mark.
"T- They have the same guns as the other two; railguns. You... You were fine with those..."
Mark hesitated, "O- Ok."
He took a deep breath before walking around the corner. Staring at the two, his nerves disallowed the beam from appearing, unable to force it out. Mark's eyes flared as he heard a woman die, his hand turning into a fist as he scowled, catapulting himself into a blur and punching the first demon's shoulder.
The man was taken by surprise, only able to react as the left side of his body was smashed into bits, violently flung into the wall, and his spine crumbled. His partner quickly turned, panicked, and fired out of pure survival instinct at the glowering young adult. Every bullet bounced off Mark's face as projectiles dented the figure's armour, shot from the room beside them.
Unwilling to let the enemy react, he moved in front of the warrior, his fist low and colliding with the man's gut. The man barely managed to scream as his body was blown in every direction, limbs and all.
Mark's eyes widened at the gruesome scene, shaking his head as the images of his family started to creep back into view. Glancing inside the room, he saw five corpses, two fully armed guards advancing, with different uniforms to the Black Guard. One, however, was missing most of a limb, the bone sticking out of the shattered forearm, blood flowing.
The technicians came over, Jeremy unconscious as the aged leader of the group stared at the two survivors.
"Are you guys ok?" He questioned, pausing at the sight of the limb.
The uninjured man grunted, "Yeah... we're ok." He glanced at Mark, "You're... on our side, right?"
He held his injured comrade up by the shoulder as Mark responded.
"Yeah... who are you?"
A technician answered from behind, "They're part of the SAS, and looking at that guy, headed to the same location as us."
"If it's still there." The SAS soldier gruffly urged, "We need to hurry; he's not going to last long."
Mark moved forward at a more hurried speed, checking the end of the hallway before they arrived at the hospital section. Bodies littered the area, blood covering the walls and floor as Black Guard soldiers and medical teams rushed around.
The group was allowed entry; the medical ward was noisy as nurses and doctors scurried from one patient to another. Most of those lying in beds were dead, their hearts still and silent like ice. An occasional groan and scream of suffering complemented the medical personnel's shouts.
"My friend needs help!" The SAS soldier cried, "He's lost too much blood!"
A doctor grunted, "Put him on the bed."
The man and a nurse applied pressure to the wound, inspecting it and deciding what to do as Mark moved towards Jeremy's bed. He was getting urgent care, the short journey almost draining him of a fatal quantity of blood.
"What did the doctor say?" Mark asked.
The aged technician wryly smiled, "He'll be ok, kid. He's survived worse."
Mark said nothing, unable to determine whether the man was lying to him or Jeremy would actually be fine. He stared at the floor, pondering whether he should do something.
"You may not like it, son, but we need your help." The technician sighed, "If you don't... I think all of us will die here."
Mark winced, "I... I'm not cold-hearted. I... I can't kill these people. Hearing their screams... I... I can't."
"When I first killed a man, I thought the same. But, over the years, I realised something vital. With that man's death, I had saved the lives of my squad, my friends and my brothers. Most have children, wives and family; that is who you are saving. And you, Mark... could save more than anyone in their entire lifetime. The world is unfair; sometimes, to save a life... you have to take one. You decide the value of your friends, don't let those opposing you do it for you."
He ruminated on the older man's words, making a quick-fire decision as the death throes of those outside resounded in his ears. They were dying to protect him. If they were willing to put themselves in harm's way, to die for him and their friends, why could he not do the same?
"I see you've made a decision." The man smiled, "Life is never easy, but that does not mean you should do nothing in the face of adversity. Help us, or leave us to die; everyone has a choice; make yours."
Mark opened the door, glancing back at the man with a dry smile.
"Thanks." He whispered.
Resolutely closing the door, caring to not get in anyone's way, he moved down the hallway and through a large room, passing two wounded soldiers, and to the entrance. The closer he got, the louder the gunfire became as it drowned out the constant alarm. He could make out perhaps twenty figures in all, six holding the entrance and more trying to retake it.
The door to the reception was barricaded, tables and chairs blocking it as he watched six demons shooting with precision. They were undamaged, a barely visible field in front of them stopping the bullets from the Black Guard.
Mark kicked the door open, the chairs and tables splintering from the impact as he stared at the six. They had barely started to turn as he finally got his laser to shoot out, appearing like a comet in the sky. The demons stood no chance, their stomachs and torso's forcefully exploding outward as their blood super-heated.
Entrails lined the walls as he held down the urge to puke, a slight orange colour remaining in his irises after the red disappeared. Walking past the bodies, he grimaced at the tens of Black Guard and SAS dead, moving to the outside.
"They're gone; the reception should be safe." Mark informed.
Mark moved past the awe-struck soldiers, pausing only momentarily before scuttling inside to secure important rooms; he overlooked the battlefield. Each primary building had been assaulted, the residential structure collapsing from fire and bombs.
In the middle of the open ground between the base buildings were around ten to fifteen of the enemy, situated behind a bubble field, blocking grenades and bullets. It looked like a battlefield from the medieval era, bloody and gory as hundreds had likely died.
Mark sneered at them, sprinting forward with a sonic boom and punching the forcefield. It shattered like glass with a loud boom, a shockwave causing gravity to disappear as the rain fell upwards. He was riddled with bullets by the enemy, their desperation apparent in their communication and body language, backing away from him.
His allies capitalised on the opening, every weapon launched at the black soldiers as their armour dented, two dying from a direct impact of a grenade. The group retreated backwards before being lasered down by Mark, the commanding soldier going first as his head popped like a melon.
He cut down four more on his left, his eyes narrowed at a soldier begging for mercy in front of him, Mark stopping his advance. The rain poured over him as he guiltily stared at the soldier. Mark sighed as he closed his eyes, bracing himself before they opened again, the beam digging a hole through their head.
Aggrieved and wishing for it to be over, he killed four more on his right, stumbling backwards as a missile hit him. Surrounded in dust, he was hit thrice more, the rockets obliterating his clothes and, this time, not moving him.
Oblivious to his nakedness, he rushed forward and arrived before a terrified demon; their heartbeat swelled as their voice cracked.
"Please! Wai-"
Ignoring the woman's pleas with a dejected expression, his hand ripped through her skull and out of the other side in a cascade of blood and slick brain. He yanked his arm out of the female's head, splitting another figure in half as a rifle butt hit his face. Mark looked left, a man's distraught voice shouting from inside the armour.
"Fuck you! Fuck you! Die you piece of shi-"
Hearing enough, he punched the neck as the man's head soared from his body. Looking towards the group's remnants, one had tripped, dragging themselves across the ground. A grenade hit a second later, the demon torn in half as Mark looked at the perpetrators, a mixture of bloodied and tired soldiers with pure hatred in their eyes.
With the battle still happening in the residential area, he disappeared and boomed onto the scene, accidentally mowing through a figure outside the building.
'Shit!'
He sighed in relief upon recognising the armour; four more demons exited the building as a massive amount of bullets bounced off them. They paused at his appearance, hesitating before shooting him.
Mark beamed the far right one, rushing one on the left and punching a hole through their gut. A moment later, one of the demons hugged him like his life depended on it.
"Run!" The woman screamed.
Her teammate ran, the hugging soldier and Mark caught amid a detonation. Fire danced around him as he stared absent-mindedly at the retreating soldier, his legs and back burnt from the heat, flesh melded with metal as he cried out. Fortunately or unfortunately, they were cut short by a powerful beam.
Mark exhaled as he glanced at the ruined entrance, a friendly soldier hesitantly walking out. He spotted Mark, his guard let down as relief flooded his body, dropping to the floor.
"Are there more in the building?" Mark asked.
The man huffed, "Nah... we got them."
He stared loudly laughing, slumped against a broken wall, "We fucking got them, fucking cunts!"
Despite the strange sight, Mark could sense substantial sorrow from the man, masked by his laughter. Not wishing to disturb the fellow, grieving in his own unique way, he looked towards the eastern building. It was utterly ablaze, massive explosions occasionally rocking the base as stockpile armaments blew up.
Tiredly sighing at what he had left to do, he launched himself into the air, heading towards the logistics and armoury building.