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At some points in my days, I feel like I need to write a note and stick it on the side of my AR that says, "nothing in your life will ever fucking go right. I knew DC was a warzone, okay, I knew it was one of the most contaminated battlefields in human history, but nothing could have prepared me for the carnage that awaited me and my crew when we arrived. The Rangers there ushered us into a bunker 45 feet underneath the ground that had been dug out all by hand and built up with pieces of scrap metal from sky scrapers, and fortified with chunks of concrete no man portable firearm could hope to shoot through. Trenches, barbed wire, machine guns and mortars were the way the fight was being carried out up top, with the occasional gas canister being tossed out. It was so dangerous topside that we had to recon with a Predator, that of course was hit with a stray mortar a mere 10 minutes after it had arrived. The bunker shook from the constant mortar and artillery fire. The pained cries and whines of maimed and wounded soldiers rolled through the wood reinforced dirt walls and prevented those who were too tired to function from dropping off to sleep. In the command room where I was, the only thing on the TV was the universal emergency signal with ticker tape telling civilians to get out of town as quietly as possible.

"Someone turn that shit off", I said motioning towards the TV, "that shit's driving me crazy."

Nitro nodded and yanked the plug from the wall, joining me at the table once again.

"Trent what did the UAV see before we lost it", I asked.

"EVAC Choppers are grounded, civilians are trapped in the white house. The UWR has four main points of defense with eight smaller ones backing them up", Trent said, he circled two red areas on the roof of the white house with two others guarding the front steps. In yellow, he circled eight smaller points, "There are two MaDecue machine guns on the roof and I've got reports throughout the day of snipers as well, likely Dragonovs, but one report said McMillan Tac-50's."

"There's quite a difference between those two rifles", Nitro commented, "knowing the UWR it's Dragonovs."

Trent nodded in agreement, "we shouldn't discount the presence of a .50 caliber light sniper though. Topside is perfect hunting grounds for them."

"That means you'll be playing hard counter sniper with Shelby Nitro", I said, "no explosives today."

"You're gonna make me cry boss", Nitro joked.

"I live for it", I replied with a smirk.

"The yellow spots are MG-42's and standard Ak-47's", Trent said, "they've been going since this morning, so they gotta be changing shifts and getting resupplied somewhere, and possibly even replacing other parts such as bolts and trigger groups, either way they're sitting on a huge ammunition dump, so we can't exactly have the Y-35 soften things up much, otherwise the white house is gonna go up in a puff of smoke just like it did in 1853, and digging the President out of that will be impossible."

"Assuming Barron's even still alive", Nitro said, "no way he was able to run before the first assault of the morning."

"As long as he's got ammo left in those 1911's the man could duel every demon in hell", I said, "don't underestimate him. Trent, what's the ETA on the Y-35 and our M155 support?"

"Badger 2-1, this is Disciple 1, what's the ETA on our Artillery?", Trent asked into his radio.

"Disciple 2 this is Badger", a woman said from the other end, "the 155's are ready to rock and roll, but we still need another hour to get the 300 set up, will you be combat effective without it?"

"In all probability yes", Trent said, "What's the shell type on the 155s? We suspect the UWR has a rather large munitions stock pile inside the Whitehouse and we can't use HE rounds or we risk setting it off."

"Straight slugs and frag rounds", the woman replied.

"Excellent", Trent said, "stand by for fire missions Badger, Disciple out. Warhammer, this is Disciple 2, what's your ETA?"

"ETA in 5 minutes Disciple", the pilot of the Y35 said over the radio. I could hear the drone of the monster gunship's turbofans over the gunfire and shelling outside, "be warned, the bulk of my escort is tied down engaging drones, so I'm all you get."

"Rodger that Warhammer", Trent said, "see you in 5."

As Trent hang up his radio, James came running in. His Rig was sweat soaked and his helmet's visor had dust and dirt caked all around the edges.

"Alex", he said out of breath, "they're pushing towards the bunker in force, if we're gonna move we have to move now!"

"That's our cue", I said racking back the charging handle of my AR-15. The hand carved metal dragon that hung from the side of the bolt release clanked against the lower receiver as I flipped it off safe. Trent grabbed his Mp-45, a modern take on a German classic, from the corner and Nitro removed his AR-10 from his back, having ditched the pathfinder suit hours ago. We followed James out to the entrance of the bunker, where a fresh round of American soldiers was getting ready to go up, followed by a squad of beat up Army Rangers that wanted another round. Standing out among the crowd of Army boys and Airborne was a C9 Combat Robot in torn civilian clothes that was trying to convince the bunker's quarter master to give him his rifle back.

"Sir please!", the bot pleaded, "I can help them! I'm combat trained."

"Forget it Civiy", the QM stated rather flatly, "I'm not giving you a rifle just so you can go up and get yourself shot or remotely hacked."

"What's going on here?", I asked walking up.

"Can you help me Marshal?", the bot asked standing at attention and giving me a sharp salute.

"At ease solider", I said, "what's your name?"

"Ren Reyes", the bot said, "formerly served with the US Army Rangers, 5 years, 10 months and 27 days. Now employed by DC SWAT."

"What's you're weapon Reyes?", I asked.

"A P-94 Energy Rifle Marshal", the bot said, "ACOG Scope, Suppressor, Fusion Mag, Amplifier."

"Hand it over QM", I said, "I need every pair of boots I can get."

The QM sighed and handed Reyes his equipment, which he checked...well like a machine, without missing so much as a beat. Combat Drones were humanoid robots developed by Cerebra Military Research in the early 2000's. Unlike energy weapon tech, which despite all their advances still have a lot left to offer, Combat Robots had been developed so far along that they sort of had nothing else left to build on. You had the mass produced ones that the UWR used, and then you had ones that were basically nothing more than metal people, complete with their own personalities and desires, like Reyes. I'd only ever served with one in the few weeks leading up to the formation of Tier X and without that robot at my side, I don't think it's a stretch to say the UWR might have won that one.

"You ready to use that weapon Reyes?", Trent asked.

"I didn't get this far off good looks and a hard outer shell Captain", Reyes said shoving a magazine into the rifle in such a way it looked like he was feeding it into his bicep, "I want the white house lawn running red with UWR blood."

"That's what I like to hear", I said, "what was you're rank?"

"Staff Sargent", Reyes said.

"Then get up there with your fellow Rangers Staff Sargent, consider yourself reenlisted."

Reyes nodded as my team and I took point on the way out of the bunker, "Airborne, Rangers, our mission is simply to take the white house and rescue president Barron from the hell he is certainly in. Rangers, what do you do!?"

"RANGER'S LEAD THE WAY!", the rangers shouted.

"Airborne!"

"Currahee!", they cried.

"TIER X!", I shouted, "WHAT DAY IS IT!"

"IT'S THE DAY OF THE DEAD!", My friends shouted.

"LET"S MOVE!", I shouted as we ran from the bunker into the war zone above, "GO! GO! GO!"

The same cry my Great Grandfather had heard from the Russians when the Germans invaded Stalingrad, and again when the UWR took Moscow, from the Chinese when the UWR Pathfinders ravaged Beijing washed over my shoulders from behind me for a third time. This time, from my fellow country men. The hailstorm of bullets and bright streaks of blue energy and explosions couldn't drown out their cries as they charged forward. We moved up behind two Humvee's and an Abrams M1 that were clashing with a few UWR Panzer Mk5's and Recon units, which seemed like a pretty fair fight, all things considered. At the point of reaching the trenches that the UWR had dug in front of the white house, the Mg-42 emplacements opened up on us, instantly gibing two Rangers, who fell to the ground and played dead just long enough for two Rebels to drag them off the battlefield and into cover of the buildings on either side.

"MG-42's!", Nitro yelled, "hit the dirt!"

"Get surpressive Fire on those 42's!", Trent shouted as he pulled the pin off a Nine bang and chucked it as far as he could. Barely peeking over the berm of the obvious mortar crater I'd taken shelter in from Hitler's Buzzsaws, I could see the Nine Bang land right on top of one of the 42's dust covers. The crew had no time to even close their eyes before the device detonated, permanently blinding both of them in a fraction of a second, they were no longer a threat. Now another Mg-42 turned on my second in command, taking their focus slightly to the right of me. I slipped the barrel of my AR-15 through the barbed wire and peered through the VMH at the gunner's head, slowly squeezing the trigger and sending the 105 grain round of 5.56 flying through the air at 2,100 feet per second. The round struck the gunner's helmet with devastating affect. I could a small black dot appear on one side of the man's helmet and a cloud of red from the other. The spotter, unaffected by the death of his teammate, grabbed the machine gun to take his place. I shifted my aim only slightly and sent another round down range, ending him. My shots had now attracted multiple other UWR commandos to my location and I received a hail of gun fire from three AK's and one Ampere, an energy based version of the AK. I ducked down out of the shots and returned fire the second the impacts in the berm above me had stopped. I managed to get two of the four and had just begun to engage the third when a stick grenade landed in my crater.

"Time to bail", I said jumping from the crater. I made it about 15 feet before the grenade went off. The shrapnel couldn't get through my Rig, but the shockwave knocked me flat on my face and deprived me of my AR-15, which landed just out of my reach. Once the ringing in my ears stopped and I managed to get my bearings, I realized I was in the middle of the battlefield, no cover to speak of anywhere and with bullets passing mere inches above me. I just laid there, not moving, letting them think that the blast had killed me, because if I moved, I'd be shot to pieces.

"Alex is down!", Trent shouted.

"Give cover Ren and I are going for him!", James shouted.

"Rodger!", Trent shouted tossing a smoke grenade. At this point, I saw Jack for the first time in a few hours as he popped out of a trench with his F2000 and put his insane trigger finger to work. Jack, who was 33, the same age as me, had brown hair and brown eyes and was 6'1 is our team's bullet hose. Jack liked guns that he could use, quote, "throw a lot of ammo at the enemy and let it land where it may". Saying that Jack could get people to keep their heads down was a gross understatement. His primary weapon was a Romanian Arms Customized F2000 with fire rate jacked through the roof at damn near 3,000 RPM and made use of a custom rail on which he mounted a Magpul AVG, Sightmark Laser sight and Hybrid set up to have some control over where all those slugs were going. He also had what magician's call Sleight Of Hand and could reload any weapon you gave him, no mater how complicated the procedure might be, ridiculously fast, and it seemed to carry into his trigger finger as well, no one can rack a Barrett .50 Cal like Jack can.

Ren and James came out from the trench as the smoke filled. Ren put his titanium plated body between the UWR's bullets and James as they moved as one unit towards me. I had barely known him for ten minutes and he was already literally sticking his neck out for me. Ren and the other's kept James covered as James tried to retrieve what he suspected to be my dead body, as he seemed surprised when I stood right up. We rushed back to the trench with Ren in pursuit. James dove into the trench, landing with a hard thud on his stomach as I slid into it. The UWR's defenses were too hard for us to brake on our own, and to that end I realized it was time for air support.

"Warhammer 1-1 this is King 1", I said getting on the radio, "are you ready for targets?"

"Rodger that King 1", the pilot said, "Ready for Targets."

"Target's are four small arms machine guns nests Grid pattern Alpha 2, Delta 5, Zulu 4, Bravo 7!", I said, "Stick to the 25mm in the vicinity of the white house, friendlies are danger close! Strobes are now active! Confirm you have a visual on us!"

"Rodger that King 1", the pilot said, "Crew friendlies are marked by flashing strobes, I repeat, do not fire on troops marked by flashing strobes. Warhammer is visual on friendlies and Tally on targets. Time to weapons in 10 seconds."

"Y-35 coming in", Ren announced over the radio, "All ground units danger close!"

"Rodger!", the Airborne and rangers acknowledged.

In the distance behind us, the rumble of the 260's engines began to fade into earshot, audible over the song of the battlefield. All I could see of it was a massive black outline and the flashing tips of it's wings.

"C-260 comin in!", one of the UWR commandos shouted, "all forces fall back!, Repeat all forces fall back!"

"Weapons away", the Pilot of the 260 said.

The rip of the chainguns made my men cheer and the enemy scream. I couldn't see the bullets raining down like the righteous fury of God that they were, but I wish I could have! Clouds of dirt, grass and blood filled the air as the MG nests and retreating commandos fell like dominoes. The barrage lasted for less than 10 seconds, but it was more than long enough to allow us to start to push up, only for extra UWR commandos to run out of the white house and take up the positions of their dead comrades. More gunfire cut through the heavy rain and dark night, claiming anyone who was too slow in hitting the dirt. The rain washed over my rig and ran down the glass of my visor as I looked through my VMH at the enemy combatants, shifting my aim and sending single shots to upper chests and heads as accurately as I could. I could feel each time the BCG of my weapon cycled to the rear, sending spent shells flying and stripping new rounds from the magazine into the chamber. It seemed like it was one after the other, kill after kill with an occasional break in aim to reload or toss the rare grenade and try to flush the baddies out of cover. Shell by shell and inch by inch, we fought our way through the UWR barricades and commandos to arrive on the steps of the white house. UWR flags ravaged and torn by battle swayed in the wind and dripped with water from the storm. Sandbags and machine guns defended the main entrances and bodies of dead commandos lay quietly, mostly face down on the concrete. At the main entrance, a voice echoed through my headset.

"Alex", I recognized the man's voice, "it's harrier than a monkey's asshole up in this bitch, tell me you and your boys are the ones causing all the trouble topside!?"

"Yes Mister President", I said, "outside defenses have been neutralized. Moving inside now!."

"Hurry up and get here son", Barron said, "I'm starting to run out of ammunition."

"All units we have to move!", I shouted into the radio, "President Barron is under attack!"

We pushed into the white house with all the force of a million angry demons. The UWR commandos waiting just inside took all the aggression we had and returned it to us equally as fierce. It was AK-47 versus M4A1 once again as we swung our hammers as hard and fast as we could. Bullets ripped through every piece of cover imaginable while the red blood of both sides stained the white linoleum floors, mixing freely as it only could when running cold. Hot brass flew through the air with the projectiles they used to house, hitting the walls with inaudible pings and coming to a rest with a faint hiss as the blood cooled them down. I looked through the VMH at the heads of my opponents, able to even see their eyes under their masks, as the shielding on Rig helmets faded into clarity when looking at them through magnified optics. Anyone can win a war by dehumanizing their opponents, as the political class of the UWR often did to justify their iron fisted rule over the world, any man can shoot and kill an animal, but it takes a special kind of man to kill another man. I could see the faces of the Commandos, the looks in their eyes were the same that I saw in the faces of my brothers in arms. That look of "Lord get me through this." There were times when I found it hard to pull the trigger against my enemies, but tonight wasn't one of those nights, it was them or my friends, and it certainly wasn't going to be my friends.

The fight in the lobby was short, bloody and fierce as hollow points ripped limbs from sockets. Cries of pain and anger echoed through the room's wooden walls, their path carved for them by 7.62 caliber ammunition. The flashes of lightning briefly turned the entire room white, outlining the warring shadows behind their owners as thunder drowned out the gunshots of both sides. Grenades were traded like candy on Halloween, leaving craters in the floor when they claimed their victims in clouds of white hot metal fragments that started small fires when they connected with flesh. When it was all over, roughly four dozen from both sides lay dead, with more wounded. Both sides fighting each other just to get their wounded friends to safety on the sidelines. More UWR commandos were joining the fight up at the top of the main stair case, giving covering fire to two medics that were trying to get down the stairs to get the wounded. At the base of the stairs, one of the medics retrieved a man missing both legs and an arm, and then was promptly shot in the back with a slug from a shotgun. The medic cried out in agony as he lost his grip on the injured man and smacked face first into the stair case. The commando rolled down the stairs, crying like a little kid as he hit the floor, and his previously clotted stumps reopened. Tunnel vision took me again as I shifted my point of aim towards the commandos on the railing, knocking off the four of them as fast as I could. With the last shot of my magazine, the lobby fell silent, only the crying of the wounded still audible.

"Medics!", I ordered, "Tend to the wounded!"

The remaining UWR medic stuck his hands out from the sand bags he was hiding behind, "I'm coming out, please don't shoot!"

"We don't kill medics", Ren said as the medic slowly stood up. Ren gave other orders to a few other Ranger medics and they got to work on patching up those injured on both sides.

'Speaking of medics", I said turning to the soldiers with me, "shotgun's step forward!"

Three men stepped forward, all armed with Akadal 1919's.

"Which one of you shot that medic in the back?", I demanded.

Two of the shot gunner's quickly stepped back, fast enough that the middle guy couldn't react.

"We don't injure, kill or otherwise attack medics", I said, "do you understand!? If I see it happen again, I will turn you over to a military tribunal."

"Fully sir", The shot gunner said clutching his weapon.

"Tier X!", I ordered, "with me to the President's Bunker, Rangers, sweep and clear the top floor, Airborne, clear ground floor, some of you stay behind to defend the medics if necessary."

"Yes sir", the leader of the Ranger's acknowledged.

"Rodger", the Marine leader said as the two groups split off.

"Ren, you're with us. Tier X let's go", I ordered.

My friends and I pushed down towards the lower levels of the Whitehouse. Through the hallways and subterranean tunnels, I could hear the clatter of AK-47's and shotguns along with the sounds of akimbo M1901's. Barron's custom pistols made a very distinct sound, a sound that only .460 Rowland Magnum could make. I lead my team through to the East wing of the Whitehouse, finding at the end of the utility tunnels where the Bunker was located that the main door had been taken off the hinges, blown in. Likely the result of a shaped charge. Dead UWR commando's and secret service men lay strewn about in the twisted burning scrap.

"Holy shit", Jack commented, "I thought Barron's bunker was in the West wing?"

"Nope", I answered as we stepped through the rubble, "just an attraction for the tourists."

"How do you know this Marshal?", Ren asked.

"Alex and Barron are good friends", Shelby said, "there isn't too much that they don't share."

"I could make so many dirty jokes about that", Trent laughed.

"And I could shoot you a few times too", I grinned, "but I don't."

Trent shrugged, "you could shoot me, but you don't have the balls to shoot anyone that will fight back."

"Trent cut the chatter", Nitro said clanking the chamber of his AR-10 closed, "stay frosty."

We moved through the dark tunnels, relying on NV to see what was going on. Nearing Barron's strongroom, I could hear chatter.

"This damn midget is starting to piss me off!", one of the commando's said as we arrived on their flank. Without announcing our presence, we took them out and moved to the door of the bunker.

"Barron!", I said, "It's Alex. Me and the guys plus one are right outside."

"You're clear Alex", Barron said as I stepped around the corner. Barron was the only survivor of his detail, the rest of the SS agents lay dead in pools of blood. The barrels of his 1901s were sagging and glowing a faint red, small wisps of smoke rose from the chambers.

"Gave those handguns a workout mister president", Ren said, "I didn't know you carried Akimbo."

"Always have", Barron said, "what's your callsign soldier?"

"Ren Reyes sir", Ren said, "DC SWAT."

"SWAT?", Barron asked, "I thought the UWR had wasted you guys."

"They did, I was the only one who survived the airstrike", Ren tapped his chassis, "being made of metal and all."

"We can catch up later", Barron said, "for now, let's get the hell outta here."

I nodded, "Overlord this is King 1, Raptor 1 is secure, be advised, Raptor 2 is not present, repeat Raptor 2 is not present."

"Good work field Marshal", a younger sounding man responded on the radio, "Be advised, Sr-75's in the airspace have picked up a massive UWR force moving towards your position, a counter attack with heavy armor is imminent. The EVAC choppers are in bound in five minutes, so keep that armor suppressed long enough for them to load up."

'Rodger", I said, "we'll locate the UWR weapons cache upstairs, dig in and burn through that ammo."

"Overlord copies all", the man said, "out."

"Barron, I know you're combat proficient, so grab one of these AK's and watch your ass. Ren, make sure Barron keeps his head down."

"Yes Marshal", Ren said as Barron took an AK-47 and a few magazines from one of the dead commandos. We returned to the ground level of the white house, where we found more Rangers, Infantry and Airborne arriving. Someone with a Captain's patch on her shoulder ran up to me.

"What's your unit and callsign soldier?", she demanded.

"Field Marshal Alex West", I said.

"My apologies Marshal", the woman said saluting me.

"No sweat captain", I said, "what's your strength?"

"50+ men and an Abrams main battle tank", she said, "Badger 2-2 peeled off a LAV from capital hill and is on his way here."

"Good. The UWR is about to mount a massive counter attack, they won't let the pres leave without a fight."

"They want a fight?", the Captain asked, "we'll give them a fight Hooah?"

"HOOAH!", the rangers shouted.

I turned from the Captain and started upstairs, getting on the radio as I did.

"Sargent Foley, I don't here gunfire up there anymore, gimme a strep."

"Upper floors are clear", the Sargent replied, "we found their massive ammo cache and Marshal, these guys had the firepower to win this war all on their own, they certainly weren't planing on moving out anytime soon."

"Good", I said, "we'll turn it against them in a few minutes. Get dug in Sargent, a UWR counter attack is five minutes out."

"Rog", Foley said.

"Overlord this is King One", I said, "gimme a sit rep on all available units in the AO."

"Rodger that King one", Overlord said, "Two ranger units and three Abrams tanks are making their way from the FOB at Capitol hill towards the Whitehouse as we speak."

"How long till the additional UWR troops arrive?"

"T minus four and one half minutes and counting", Overlord said, "recommend you get dug in over."

"Rog", I said, "King One out."

My friends and I scaled the stairs of the white house towards the roof, where we found the Sargent in a small office like room with a giant hole in the wall, overlooking the area by the Washington monument where the EVAC pads were set up. There were a few dozen people set hiding very well down there with only a few robots watching their backs. I could see the helo's in the distance. And I gotta say, I'd seen some pretty sizable armories since this war started, but this one blew them all away. Crates upon crates of frags, smokes, flashes 8mm for MG-42's, 5.56, 7.62x39 and even a few Javelin launchers, which would probably come in handy here in a few minutes.

"Holy shit", Trent said as we entered, "these guys had enough weapons and ammo to last for years here."

"I've heard of being over prepared", Shelby said restocking her ammunition from one of the crates, "but this shit is insane."

"Toss me a few frag rounds, I'm feeling light", I commented.

"Frag rounds coming down", Nitro said handing me a satchel with four grenades in it.

As we restocked our ammunition and took ownership of a few rifles that were scattered around the room, Barron spoke up.

"Alex, Marine One isn't with the Choppers."

"What?", I asked glancing in the direction of the helos, finding that I couldn't locate the tell tale headlights of Marine one, a pattern I knew by heart.

Overlord this is King One", I said getting on the radio, "Marine 1 is not with the EVAC Choppers, I repeat Marine 1 is not with the EVAC Choppers. Gimme a set rep, where's the President's ride?"

Overlord replied, but not with the "Marine One is just lagging behind", that I was hoping to hear, "Marshal, Marine One was destoried by a UWR airstrike on FOB Santa Monica."

"Why the fuck was I not informed about this earlier?", I asked.

"Watch your mouth Marshal", Overlord said, "I was informed of this barely five minutes ago."

"I guess it can't be helped", I said, "what other air units do I have in this AO?"

"The EVAC Choppers are all you've got Marshal", Overlord said, "the rest of our helo's are either scrap or not yet ready to fly."

"I can make it work", I sighed, "somehow. King One out."

"Keep me posted Marshal, Overlord copies your last, out."

"Change of plans guys", I said, "looks like we're down a chopper, which means we've got no ride out of town."

"We can't hide from the UWR forever", Barron said, "we gotta get out of this shit hole soon."

"I know, I know...gimme a minute to think of something", I said.

"Show us grace under pressure boss", Trent said.

"Always", I grinned, "We've got artillery support right?", I asked, "let's put them to work then. Trent, paint our bombers a kill zone with a path straight through the middle for us, James, grab up that Javelin in the corner and use it. The rest of us are on grunt duty and Ren, put that titanium of yours between us and that door, I dislike the idea of being shot in the back quite a bit."

"Rodger", Ren acknowledged.

My team took up their positions. I sat down next to James and loaded a fresh magazine into my AR-15, allowing myself to relax for the first time in several days. The mission to retake the Whitehouse from the UWR had been going on for weeks before Tier X got involved. Our snipers and pilots had tipped the scales in our favor just enough to allow us to establish a safe route for the Rebels to get involved and get an FOB set up, which kept us supplied and made sure the wounded from both sides pulled through. It was rare to get a defection from the UWR, as they were always punished with death when they failed, but occasionally we'd get people coming through who'd read one to many files or overheard the wrong people. We dug in as best we could. I set my watch timer for 3 minutes, there was nothing to do now but wait and though the immediate area was quiet, gunfire aplenty was audible from miles away, barely faint cracks in the distance.

"When we get done with this op, I'm gonna get a big ass frozen pizza from the Walmart on base and eat the whole damn thing", Trent said wiping the sweat, blood and dirt from his face. There were areas on his head where his helmet had rubbed the skin off, leaving large open sores and his bright blue eyes sharply contrasted with his dirty features.

"You should get those sores looked at Captain", Nitro said

Trent put his helmet back on, sealing it to his Rig with a few mechanical clicks, "Yeah yeah Nitro."

He picked up his MP45 and checked the magazine, taking up a position near the hole in the wall. As he did, I heard the UWR reinforcements in the distance, coming in hot. I gritted my teeth as the EVAC chopper leader got on my radio.

"Marshal, we only need a few more minutes to finish loading up. Once we are, I'll brake off from the group to pick you, your team and the President up."

"Rodger", I said, "King One acknowledges all."

As the UWR counter attack came into view, I turned to my friends, "Tier X, what day is it?"

"It's the day of the dead!", my friends replied in unison as the first gunshot of the counter attack rang out. A swarm of UWR ground forces poured from smoke that had been deployed from a few tanks that were rolling up towards the EVAC choppers. I swiped across the HUD on my helmet and brought up a targeting relay for the artillery crew.

"Badger 2-1 stand by for targets", I said marking each tank, "four UWR tanks moving towards civilian CASEVAC choppers, thin the heard for them, targets are danger close to friendlies."

"Rodger King", the leader of the artillery replied, "Badger has your target coordinates, ordinance to follow in 3, 2 1."

I didn't hear the shots launch, but you'd have to be dead not to hear them land. The 7 155 rounds hit their targets on the bullseye, twisting the tanks into nothing but flaming scrap metal and leaving them at the bottom of large craters. The bastion of tanks was mostly eliminated, but one of them managed to get through, it's gun pointed straight at the choppers.

"FIRING LAUNCHER! DANGER CLOSE!", James shouted as he let the Javelin go. The rocket flew out of the launcher and ignited it's boosters, flying in an arc and landing on the top of the turret. It didn't mangle the tank as badly as the artillery did, but the crew inside was no doubt dead. As all of this was going on, I continued to pick off UWR infantry one at a time with well placed head shots. Nitro was aiming for packs of infantry and Shelby was taking longer range targets that were trying to pry apart the civilian's and take over the EVAC site. There were too many for us to keep the LZ secure on our own.

"Ren, Barron!", I shouted, "pitch in! We need more guns!"

Ren and Barron emerged from hiding and began trading fire with the UWR commandos as the ranger from down stairs contacted got on the radio to Overlord

"OVERLORD! The UWR is about to overrun us!", she shouted, "We need air support now!"

"Captain a C-230 gunship is in the AO at this time, use your visor to mark the targets for them", Overlord said, "Marshal, give me a sitrep, what's the status of the EVAC choppers?"

"They just need a few more minutes sir", I said, "what about us!?"

"Armor and Pathfinder units are inbound to your position on Marine Two Marshal", Overlord said, "ETA in ten minutes."

"Badger 2-1 we need another barrage!", I said contacting the artillery crew as the C-230 warned of a strafing run, "immediate vicinity of the EVAC site to thin the herd of commandos, the civvies are gonna get over run if we don't clean up a little!"

"The shells could fragment and kill civilians Marshal", the leader of Badger said, "are you sure that's the correct plan of action?"

"It's not a suggestion", I said, "Fire Package Alpha, send it."

The cannoner sighed, 'Rodger, Fire Package Alpha inbound."

I quickly turned my coms to the channel of the EVAC pilots, "Attention all Badger units, Fire package from artillery support is in bound! Brace for impact!"

In the distance I could see people on the landing pads duck from shrapnel as the artillery began raining down like meteors. Within seconds of the Artillery coming down, the retreat started. On the ground, I heard a ranger shout.

"THEY ARE WEAK! WE MUST FINISH THEM!"

I heard that all to familiar cry of warriors wash over the landscape once again as US troops stood up from cover and charged at the fleeing commandos like hungry, rabid animals. Flamethrowers had come out, two Pathfinder's were tearing into the backs of the fleeing men and the C-230 was coming back around for another strafing run. At this point, the fight was over, we'd won for now, but the war was far from over.

James set aside the javelin as I stood up, looking over the landscape.

"When are we going to Codwell?", Nitro asked.

"I don't know Captain", I said, shifting my gaze around at the dead bodies, hundreds, maybe even thousands of them, "but we're gonna burn it to the ground when we get there."