Bio-Mech Warrior

0100 Hours – Abandoned Village

The village was deathly still. Not a soul in sight. Wooden huts with palm-frond roofs stood in silence, doors sealed, windows dark. Not a single flicker of light—no torches, no candles. Only the sound of wind brushing through lifeless structures.

Peter and his squadmate crept through the shadows, closing in on the tower suspected to house the Controller node. They moved like ghosts between the huts, avoiding open ground. Reaching the tower, Peter planted the charges swiftly and retreated to cover.

"Lieutenant, explosives are set," Peter whispered into comms.

"Good. Set the timer and get the hell out of there, Corporal," Andrew ordered.

Ten minutes until detonation.

Peter hit the timer. He and his partner sprinted out, weaving between the lifeless structures. Every step felt heavier as the village's eerie silence lingered.

500 Meters Out – Overwatch Point

On a ridge overlooking the village, Andrew and Mikhail lay prone. Mikhail manned the SR-55 sniper rifle, its scope trained on the village perimeter. Andrew scanned with his binoculars.

"It's too quiet, sir," Mikhail muttered.

"Then maybe we get to walk away from this one," Andrew replied, though he didn't believe it himself.

His thoughts drifted—if Almirez hadn't interfered, Gomez would've been in cuffs by now. Instead, they were knee-deep in monsters, in the middle of nowhere, babysitting a war nobody wanted.

"Sir. Movement!" Mikhail snapped, voice tense.

Andrew adjusted his binoculars, tracking Mikhail's scope. Near the eastern edge of the village, two grotesque humanoids lumbered into view—tall, gaunt things wrapped in tattered rags, each wielding a massive rusted axe. Seven, maybe eight feet tall. Their movements were unnatural, twitchy.

"What the hell are those?" Mikhail whispered.

"Doesn't matter. We need to warn Peter." Andrew switched channels. "All units, be advised. Two hostile bioforms near the village exit. Proceed with extreme caution. Expect additional contacts."

Within the Village

Peter froze at the warning, ducking behind a nearby hut. His partner mirrored him from the opposite side of the path.

"Lieutenant, you wouldn't happen to have a distraction on hand, would you?" Peter whispered. "I mean, unless feeding us to axe-wielding mutants is part of the plan."

Andrew glanced at Mikhail and gave a sharp nod. The sniper already had one target in his crosshairs.

"Tell me when," Mikhail said.

Andrew made a quick wind adjustment, then gave the word. "Green light. Fire at will."

"Copy."

The SR-55 thundered. One of the towering bio-weapons dropped immediately, its skull shattered. The other let out a piercing howl that echoed through the jungle.

Then everything went to hell.

The silence broke—hut doors slammed open as dozens of rotting corpses staggered out. Civilian undead, half-dressed and half-decayed, shuffled aimlessly. Their eyes blank. Their presence mindless. But dangerous all the same.

Peter and his partner dove beneath one of the stilted huts, narrowly avoiding detection.

"Well, that worked a little too well," Peter muttered. "We're almost zombie chow here."

"Stay low, Corporal. We'll draw them off," Andrew responded.

Switching channels, he barked, "Sergeant Tanya, status?"

"Standing by, Lieutenant."

"Start your distraction. Peter's team is boxed in."

"Understood."

Tanya gave Mary and the SAW crew a quick signal. The light machine gun opened up, carving a line of suppressive fire across the far side of the village. Muzzle flashes lit up the treeline. The sound was deafening.

Inside the village, chaos broke out.

The undead became confused—some wandered toward Tanya's team, only to be cut down. Others turned in random directions, shambling with renewed aggression.

Peter and his partner crawled under the huts, inching toward the edge of the village.

But just as Peter reached the outskirts, he looked back—and saw his partner overwhelmed by the horde.

The growls were horrifying. So were the screams.

Peter had no choice.

"I'm sorry…" he whispered—and ran.

Seconds later, the timer hit zero.

A massive explosion rocked the village. Fire and debris lit up the night as the Controller tower was obliterated. Undead near the blast were torn apart. The rest shrieked and howled, now without coordination—more feral than ever.

"This is Peter. We have one KIA. Swarmed by the horde," he reported between breaths.

Andrew clenched his jaw. "Damn it."

"Mikhail, cover him!" Andrew barked.

"On it!"

The SR-55 cracked again, picking off pursuers with precision. Tanya's team joined in, laying down overlapping fire to clear Peter's escape route.

Peter ran. Undead dropped behind him, bullets tearing them apart. At last, he cleared the danger zone, 300 meters from the village. The remaining horde wandered, directionless and rabid.

Andrew switched to command channel. "Hometown, this is Pathfinder. Controller neutralized."

Colonel Gray replied promptly. "Acknowledged, Pathfinder. Allied exfil assets are inbound. Proceed to coordinates Alpha-Green."

"Copy that. We're moving."

Andrew turned to Mikhail. "Pack up. We're done here."

Switching frequencies again, he addressed the squad: "Team, fall back. Exfil orders are in."

"Roger!" came the unified reply.

Tanya and her fireteam pulled back from the treeline. Peter joined Andrew's position, sweat-soaked and silent. No one spoke of the man they'd lost.

The mission wasn't over—but they had survived another hour of hell.