MLOG 036: 03-26-2350 - Sergeant Antonio Chavez - Fort Titus, Outskirts of the City of Eisenwatch
It's Easter. The sounds of the bell clanging, the masses filled with joyful odes and songs, it's always this time of the year. The sounds of laughter and hymns filled the air, and I could almost hear my mother's sweet voice singing with the others. My grandmother's warm praise echoed through the church, her devotion to our shared faith palpable.
Everything was of joy and the air was filled with the crackling of the fireworks and trumpets, but as soon as I slowly opened my eyes, I heard the crackle slowly dissipating into sounds of explosions and muffled bullets hissing through the air as they pop. I remembered now, I am a soldier, and I was drafted from Marina into this other hellhole, Titus.
And within this makeshift underground bunker beneath the Fort, my companions labored. We welded together scraps of metal and salvaged pieces to fortify our fragile refuge. Some uttered their prayers silently that our shelter would hold, shielding us from the violent hail of bullets and raining ordnance raging on the surface.
I sat solemnly before a crackling campfire. We were clad in battle-worn body armor adorned with the emblem of the great Sullivan, our pride, our honor, and our only motivation in this hard times. My gaze was fixed on the dancing flames, and my mind became a whirlwind of thoughts and worries. Four of my comrades lay wounded and weary. One soldier's feet were broken and bandaged, while the woman wearing a red-colored lab coat, a medical officer from the Central Ministry's Legionnaires, tended to Clyde who was seized by fever due to wound infections.
I remember sending Jackson and Ramirez outside to keep watch. I am just hoping that their ears were finely tuned to the distant sounds of artillery.
Then suddenly, a thunderous roar pierced the air, signaling the upcoming barrage.
The ground trembled violently as explosions rocked our underground sanctuary. I was about to call the two off but luckily, they hastened and immediately slid themselves down the trapdoor inside the bunker before the artillery barrage hit them.
Jackson groaned in pain,
"The bastards still got their ray guns; Fuck! that hurt my hand! Who in the fucking hell dug the entrance this steep?!"
"Jackson, you good?" I exclaimed as I stood up and rushed to pull the lever just beside the entrance. The clanking sound of the metal bars soon followed, securing the trapdoor.
"Sarge, the Ballista could not get past the ridgeline. The mountains were littered with a fuck-ton of Becker's cronies in their tin cans!"
"The Interior perimeter defense is no more. How's Miller and the Praetor doing--"
Explosions suddenly rocked on the surface, making us crouch in fear.
[PERIMETER SAFETY REDUCED TO FIFTY-FIVE PERCENT, EVACUATING FROM THE AREA IS ADVISED]
A loud beep came out of my wrist watch. This military-standard wrist watch is a mass-produced technology of the Carrion Industries. It was ironic, to say the least, that the same company responsible for most of Aether's arsenal was also providing the tools for us to fight each other. The thought was a sobering one.
"This place won't buy us some time! We should get out of here, Sarge, before this place buries us alive!" Ramirez who slid with Jackson, wrapped his left arm with a white cloth and loads his rifle.
The guy has been itching ever since he lost most of his squad and got rendezvous with ours. He seemed lost the first time we saw him hiding in the rubble, but I was glad that he finally managed to got back on his feet.
The medic notices something strange in the air. Quickly, she loosens the air filter in her mask and as soon as she inhales, her nose became itchy and starts rubbing it in all of the sudden.
"The fog is getting thick, the Zenolings will arrive!" she exclaimed.
Ah yes, the Zenolings. My parents died to these outworlders. They were alien beings, both creature and humanoid-like. If I were to describe their appearances, they look like the morbid illustrations from an old-world book that I have read that talks about "Eldritch Horrors". I used to wonder as a kid if such things could really exist, and now, looking at these beings, they're as close as it gets. It gives me the chills.
They arrived on Earth ages ago, triggering a catastrophic extinction event for our species. Now, they dominate our planet, and we once foolishly believed we could reclaim what we lost so easily.
They may have brought terror but this time, we were in luck to have them on our side.
Just a few kilometers away from Titus where an infested bunker was situated, we've set a trap that will trigger a chain explosion. Beneath the confines of that dilapidated bunker was a horrifying breeding ground of those pestilence that took fifteen of Miller's goons' lives. I am positive that it has already detonated due to the boiling presence of the Violet Fog in the air.
If it weren't for the help of the Central Ministry, we couldn't have sealed that bunker off and Titus will certainly be in no shape until now. At least we owe that one to these aristocratic bastards. That's all that they've ever done to help us. Their agenda was set on Titus itself.
The new central government whom established its presence in Sulliva had their eyes on the bunker beneath Titus for quiet a while now. Not many people know, but within these dilapidated dugouts lie the old-world technologies that was left by humanity's ancestors to combat the menacing Zenolings. But it was not the war with these outworlders that evoked them to resort into hiding underground, but it was the war against their own kind. Even in this war that we are fighting at present, we use the similar technology that our ancestors used to annihilate each other. History repeats itself.
Even humanity's peak technological advancements weren't able to withstand the destructive nature of the morbid creatures. Once they find their way here in Titus, those Aetherian bastards outside will surely see the reason why humanity cowers in the face of these dreadful beings.
Ramirez got his hand over my shoulder, inquiring about the medic. The fact that the Sullivan Armed Forces having a beef with the Central Ministry could never be repudiated. It was this war that made us help each other despite both groups having conflict with each other. It is only us from the same group in whom we trust and we just happen to pick up the medic from the line of fire. We cannot afford to lose anyone who's willing to help us out.
Despite the differences in our own pursuits, the medic displayed compassion on helping people out despite having her objectives to only aid the Praetor and his comrades. It is a thing to behold, and I cannot let such good soul die with those ambitions at hand.
To top it off, the medic is quite a pretty young fellow. Her aspirations are what makes her even more admirable. Despite her serious and cunning demeanor, she still manages to get my trust. All I can see from her is that she just really wants to be a saint in these trying times. I was the only one who could see it.
"I don't know what that woman is planning, Sarge. We should not let her stay here for too long!"
"Come on, the woman's just trying to help," I chuckled in affirmation. It is true. "Besides, she hasn't done anything that would spell trouble to us in the past few hours,"
"She's just deadweight! We could have saved the other guys back there if it wasn't for that woman!"
"We save who we can, Corporal. Those kids were pretty unlucky being in the line of fire."
"Have you forgotten what the Central Ministry had done to us, Sarge?" his tone, agitated.
"Saving her has got nothing to do with the Central Ministry. I saved her because she needs saving. I didn't choose her over our own men. I hope you do understood that, Corporal. They were beyond saving at that point".
A few hours ago, just after we hooked up some explosives at the dilapidated bunker, we've met with the Praetor and his envoys. The man must've had good news for coming here so quickly than the expected schedule. He'd be happy to discuss to us once we reached the Fort when suddenly, the Aetherian bastards rained fire on us and chased us up to here. The Praetor immediately took off with his cronies, leaving us and some of his comrades behind, including that woman.
They were all patriots. The soldiers who brought us the time to refuel our Ballista were the real heroes. If it wasn't to those soldiers, we wouldn't have been able to be here. If it wasn't for them, we wouldn't have been seeing this woman inside our underground shelter. I admit that it was impulsive for me to suddenly grab her hand and threw her inside the vehicle.
We could have waited for the others, but Miller ain't trading our lives for a few ones. We had no choice but to crank up the engine and revved immediately without looking back. I salute those soldiers, may God bless their souls.
"I will keep a close eye on her," Ramirez swiftly stood and left back to his post.
The ominous sounds were still looming outside, and we had no idea what is really going on up there. But at the very least, we ain't hearing anymore gunshots and explosions. I was relieved seeing some of us all and well, but the feeling of failing your comrades is still apparent in my face.
Just before I could react, the medical officer suddenly buried her delicate fingers on my forehead and fixes my hair. I did not notice that she was already kneeling down beside me. I was lost in thought that I couldn't hear her coming.
"Are you feeling alright?" she says with a hint of worry in her face
"Yeah,"
"That is good. I have some Ibuprofen with me if you're not feeling well."
She rustles the things inside her medical kit, pulls out a few tablets, and sticks it inside the chest pocket on my uniform with a pat on my shoulder.
"Just give me a holler if you need anything else!"
I nodded in affirmation. Things must have been too hard for her. From my experiences with Legionary Medical Officers, they don't quite fancy interacting with "normal people" which is entirely a waste of bad attitude. The air around her is different, like she's different from the others.
I want to know more about her. But as I was on my way to do so, we were stopped by someone knocking outside the trapdoor.
"Chavez!" a muffled but familiar gruff voice came behind the steel doors. At that moment, I knew it was Miller calling us from the surface.
"That's Captain!" called Ramirez
Jackson pulled the lever and the steel bars immediately burrowed itself, revealing the trapdoor's entrance. Ramirez aids Jackson in pushing the trapdoor but they find it very hard to do so, like there was a huge debris lying above it. I immediately rushed to their aid as well and immediately, the huge stone rolled down the slope as the doors lay wide open from the surface.
A hand suddenly reaches down from the surface and I managed to grab it before the doors closed shut again. As I emerged to the surface, the sight of butchery met my eyes.
Zenolings lay dead along with dead bodies of Aetherian Soldiers. Huge claw marks on their Bolster Armors. We were lucky that it was them instead of us. The ominous scent still lingers but it slowly dissipates as I see more of my comrades ascended from their bunkers and into the rubble.
The attack left Titus almost in the wake of being demolished, but it stood pretty fine. My comrades salvaged what's left in the dead bodies of the enemies.
"They've retreated," spoke Miller, his hands bleeding red.
"I knew the trap would work!" Jackson sighed in relief, "I almost lost hope that we could ever get out of that hole alive".
"We've lost too many men today, we can't just sit around here and dwindle our numbers without putting up a fight!" Miller added, "We were two hundred and forty-six yesterday, down to seventy six".
"I am not surprised,"
"It's a war of attrition,"
Yes, we must hold out, yet, there is no guarantee that we will be alive for that long.
"I'll segregate squads, we'll bring the battle at Zwetendrof tomorrow"
Zwetendrof is hundreds of miles from our location. Treading there with limited resources would spell suicide. Miller originally had suspicions on that nuclear facility that it was one of Aether's base of operations. It was later confirmed by the central government through radio transmissions.
We were given orders to protect Titus at all cost, I thought Miller wouldn't be too dumb enough to disobey such a thing.
"We don't have any choice. We will die here if we don't do anything" says Miller.
Miller is right, we had to at least put up a fight if we're going to die here on our own. I cannot put my trust in the Central Ministry, nor the Balkans. It is only Miller in whom I trust to lead us into victory. But this is the first time that I have been contemplating on what to respond to this.
"I cannot protect you, Miller. Richie, she'll turn three this month. I was hoping that you aren't going to kill yourself without seeing your daughter's face for the first time!"
"I am not planning on dying anytime soon," he replied and pats my back as a sign of affirmation
"We'll get out of here alive and you'll get to be Richie's uncle. How's that for a deal?"
"Striking me with such a thing at this moment," I was left chuckling but it's a grand motivation for the both of us, "Sounds like a good deal to me!"
Miller and I have known each other since we went into the same Military School. He's the definition of a patriot and a true leader. He led us in countless battles. Together, we fought against the Aetherian Military; we were comrades in arms. He was a true brother to me, and I do not wish to see him die in a place like this.
Ramirez calls us out. It appears that the huge bulk door of the bunker was successfully opened. I saw the Praetor as I walk past my comrades. Clad in huge and powerful Bolster Armor, they were high-ranking officers of the Central Ministry tasked with excursions like this for the recovery of certain technologies. I bet they would be nothing but talk without their tin cans. I cannot help but to antagonize these hypocritical bastards! The thought of losing my comrades because of them is a thing that I couldn't totally bear.
"Say, your prayers have been finally answered, Miller" the Praetor laughs
"What can I say? Our beliefs are far better than anyone else. Can't you also have faith like us just this once? It's not too hard do so like asking you to step out of that tin can of yours and feed yourself in the wild," Miller chuckles in response
"You're fortunate that I am still up for jokes at this point. If it weren't for the SIA, we wouldn't even be here to save your sorry asses!"
"You talk big for someone who's been deadweight in the first place!"
The exchange turned into a heated mockery where both sides had to stop from turning into a bloody fight against each other. My ears weren't too keen for this, so I had to go inside ahead of them. I found myself walking in the medical bay area. There were stairs heading down to the armory where the old US military kept their equipment and vehicles intact. But I wasn't too sure if they were in good conditions since I was looking inside the bunker and its interior did not age well. The medical equipment were almost inoperable but at least their engineers had been so good in restoring the old devices.
There weren't any proper rooms and equipment for conducting operations, so the medical officers had to operate the critically wounded soldiers with what equipment they could find.
I noticed the woman while back at the bunker. I was about to greet her again but I immediately erased the thought as she looks pretty busy. I tailed her to the interiors of the medical bay and found that she was preparing for an operation. I could tell from her eyes alone that she was certainly exhausted but she still keeps on helping people.
"Doctor Bosanovich, I need help here! Patient's blood pressure is rising! They're convulsing! Shit!"
"Inject ten milliliters of Phenytoin!" Her eyes diverted into the patient as the medical officers covered the patient's head with a cloth. Their hands shaking rapidly, they were nervous.
"He is dying!" cried her comrade
"Fuck!" Originally tending the wounds of the newly-amputated soldier, she screamed in frustration and immediately rushes to the other patient, leaving the amputated soldier unattained.
With little medical expertise that I have, I immediately rushed to the amputee and continues dressing the stump of his leg. The medical officers were about to take over me when the woman calls them for assistance.
"S-Sarge..." the soldier mutters as he groans in pain.
I noticed Jackson entering the room while carrying medical supplies. The bastard could never read the situation.
"Still got those private parts intact, private?"
"Sir Jackson... Fuck you" the soldier tries its best to let out a laughter but pain kept him from doing so.
"Sarge, I didn't know you were this good!"
"I was medical before we got drafted here. Years of training with doctor Aybak not wasted!"
"You know Aybak?"
I turn around and it was another medical officer. She was with the doctor a while ago, I am guessing that she's also one herself judging from the insignia hanging on her belt. Legionary Medical Officers wear different emblems to distinguish them from the soldiers. It is vital for their military functioning since they will be able to prioritize their safety over the others.
"Doctor Lindsey. Mister Aybak is a mentor," she added and proceeds to finish the dressing.
"Well Doctor, I guess we grew up in the same tree as well, eh?"
"You could say that,"
"Your subordinates don't look like medical to me. Are they interns from Sulliva?" asked Jackson
Lindsey fell in silence for a moment,
"The Institute never expected the situation to be this dire and immediately drafted these poor sods here. I and Doctor Bosanovich were the only legitimate medical here."
I was guessing that she and the other medical officer who were with us, I assume her surname's Bosanovich were the only legitimate medical in this place. Their subordinates, like me, probably know a thing or two about patching up a wound. But there is no way in hell they could operate, nor have the license to do so.
"What the fuck? We need field medics, not interns!" Jackson replied
"Most of the medical teams are drafted in the western front. These bastards were dressed up in medical uniforms, for what? To boost your men's morale? To think that if they'd get injured, they'll come perfectly to your aid? What in the hell are they thinking drafting students in the battlefield?!"
She lets out a frustrated grunt and the Interns upon hearing felt bad for themselves.
"Sulliva had to utilize everything that they had,"
It is clear what their motivation is, and it is bad considering that they had to lie to us in our faces and thinking that we could just let this slide through and accept what was given to us. They were wrong in doing so!
MLOG 036: 03-26-2350 - Sergeant Antonio Chavez - Fort Titus, Outskirts of the City of Eisenwatch
END OF LOG - TERMINATION.