The silence of dawn was shattered by the mechanical roar of engines and the screech of metal. Ren's squad barely had a moment to register the sound before a line of N-Types broke through the mist, their sleek frames gleaming in the dim light as they charged across the hillside. A sudden blast sent a spray of earth and debris into the air, and Ren instinctively ducked, pulling Elara down beside him as the world exploded around them.
"Contact! We've got hostiles—move!" he shouted, his voice barely cutting through the chaos.
The squad scattered, instinct kicking in as they dashed for cover, dodging the barrage of fire that rained down upon them. Ren watched in horror as Kai, one of the youngest in the squad, tried to sprint across an open stretch of ground—only to be cut down by a rapid burst of gunfire from the lead N-Type. He went down in a sprawl of blood and dust, his lifeless eyes staring at the morning sky.
"Kai!" Elara screamed, her voice laced with anguish. She started to rush toward him, but Ren grabbed her arm, pulling her back.
"There's nothing you can do!" he yelled, his voice tight with grief.
"But he—" Elara's voice broke, her gaze locked on their fallen comrade.
"He's gone, Elara. We have to move!" Ren forced her to look at him, the weight of his words pulling her from her shock.
The N-Types advanced, their sleek bodies cutting through the fog like hunting wolves. Ren's heart raced as he ducked behind a pile of shattered concrete, his squad barely holding their ground. They'd faced these machines before, but something was different—these N-Types were faster, more coordinated, and they weren't hesitating.
"Commander, are you seeing this?" Ren called over the communicator, desperation clawing at his voice.
Sera's response crackled through the static, strained but focused. "I see it, Ren. I… I can't explain it. They shouldn't be able to move this freely."
Another blast shook the ground as one of the N-Types fired a missile into their position. Ren felt the shockwave ripple through his body, knocking him to the ground. He rolled, bracing against the impact, his vision blurring as he struggled to keep his balance.
"Hold your ground!" he barked, glancing around to locate his remaining squad members. He spotted Elara and two others crouched nearby, their faces streaked with dirt and fear.
"Ren, we're outnumbered!" Elara shouted, her voice barely audible over the roar of gunfire.
"Then we even the odds," he replied grimly, pulling a grenade from his belt. He yanked the pin and lobbed it toward the advancing N-Types, the explosion throwing up a cloud of smoke and shrapnel. Two of the machines staggered back, damaged but still functional, their red sensors flashing as they recalibrated.
A flash of movement caught his eye, and Ren turned just in time to see another squad member, Myla, cut down by a volley of bullets. She fell to the ground, her body limp, the light leaving her eyes in an instant. Another friend, gone.
"Damn it!" Ren swore, his fists clenching around his weapon. The anger inside him flared like a wildfire, mixing with the grief that threatened to choke him.
"We're not leaving anyone else behind!" he shouted, rallying what was left of his squad.
He took aim and fired, his shots precise and deliberate, each bullet a desperate attempt to protect the few comrades he had left. Elara was at his side, her own rifle spitting rounds as they pushed back against the machines with every ounce of strength they had. The N-Types were relentless, closing in with a deadly precision that felt unnatural, as if they were being guided by something more than mere programming.
"Elara, we need to fall back!" Ren called, realizing they couldn't hold the line much longer. But even as he said it, he felt a pang of guilt. They'd already lost too many—retreat felt like surrender, an admission of defeat in a war they'd been forced to fight.
But before he could give the order, Sera's voice cut through the chaos. "Ren, there's a shelter nearby—a bunker. I'm sending the coordinates now. It's your best chance."
Ren hesitated. The bunker could be a trap, a calculated move by command to dispose of what remained of his team. But right now, he didn't have many options. His gaze shifted to Elara, who was still firing, her expression twisted with rage and loss.
"Everyone, get your mecha's and fall back to the coordinates!" he ordered, his voice hoarse but commanding.
The squad moved as one, breaking cover and sprinting toward the silo where the mechas are and quickly went to the bunker as the N-Types continued their assault. Ren felt the burn of his muscles, the ache of loss and exhaustion as he pushed himself to keep up. Each step felt heavier than the last, every glance over his shoulder a reminder of the friends they'd left behind.
They reached the bunker, an imposing metal structure half-buried in the ground, rusted but solid. Ren punched in the code Sera had sent, his hands shaking as he watched the door grind open. The moment the gap was wide enough, he waved his squad inside.
"Hurry!" he urged, glancing back at the N-Types still closing in, their red sensors like malevolent eyes in the mist.
Elara was the last to enter, her gaze lingering on the battlefield, on the bodies of their fallen friends. Ren grabbed her arm, pulling her inside as the bunker door sealed shut with a heavy clang, cutting off the outside world.
For a moment, there was only silence—the muffled hum of the bunker's machinery and the harsh sound of their breathing. The weight of their losses settled over them like a shroud, each of them too numb to speak, their grief a silent bond that connected them in a way words couldn't.
Ren slumped against the wall, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving behind a raw ache that made him feel hollow. He glanced around at his squad—Elara, Ford, and Jax, the last survivors of Unit 07. They were bruised, bloodied, and exhausted, their faces etched with pain and loss.
"We're… we're all that's left," Elara whispered, her voice breaking.
Ren nodded, his own voice choked with emotion. "Yeah. But we're still here."
He lifted his communicator, his hand trembling as he pressed it to his ear. "Sera… we made it. We're in the bunker."
Her response came through, soft and tentative. "I'm glad. I… I didn't think you'd make it."
Ren's jaw tightened, the weight of her words heavy with unspoken regret. "We lost Kai and Myla. They didn't stand a chance."
"I'm sorry, Ren," she replied, her voice filled with genuine sorrow. "I wish I could do more."
Her words stirred something in him, a strange mixture of anger and empathy. He wanted to blame her, to lash out and tell her that her sympathy meant nothing. But he could hear the tremor in her voice, the way her words carried a weight that was too human to ignore.
"Then prove it," he said quietly, his voice raw. "If you really care, if you don't want to be part of this… then help us. For real. Not just with a code or a warning. Show us you mean it."
There was a long silence on the other end of the line, as if Sera was processing his challenge. Finally, her voice came back, filled with a quiet resolve.
"I will, Ren. I don't know how yet, but I'll find a way. You have my word."
Ren closed his eyes, the exhaustion settling deep into his bones. He didn't fully trust her yet, but he felt a flicker of something—a fragile, tentative hope. In a world where betrayal was the norm, where trust was a rare and dangerous thing, he was willing to give Sera a chance.
But only one.
As he lowered the communicator, he looked at his squad, each of them battered and grieving but still alive. They'd lost too much, sacrificed too many, and the pain of those losses was carved into each of their faces. But they were survivors, bound by the promise that they'd keep moving forward, no matter what it took.
And with Sera's voice still echoing in his mind, Ren felt a grim determination settling over him. They'd lost comrades, friends, family. But if there was even a chance to turn the tide, to break free from the chains that bound them, he would take it.
For those they'd lost—and for the future they were still fighting for.