Bio-Mech Warrior

0230 Hours – Exfil Location

"What the hell happened here?"

Andrew's voice trembled as he took in the carnage. The pickup team—fellow mercenaries—lay in ruin. Bodies were torn open, limbs scattered, some partially devoured. Bite marks—human and canine—marred what remained of them.

Peter gagged and doubled over. The rest of the team turned away in silence.

"We can't just leave them like this," Andrew muttered, jaw tight.

"We don't have time, sir," Mikhail said urgently. "We need to get out of here—now."

Andrew glanced at his team. Tanya nodded silently, sharing Mikhail's sentiment. He sighed and raised his comms.

"I'll contact HQ."

Static buzzed through the headset. Andrew strained to make out Colonel Gray's voice through the distortion.

"Pathfinder... LZ... compromised... overrun... bio-weapons!"

Andrew's eyes widened. "But we destroyed the Controller, sir!"

"Get out... enemy presence... new coordinates..."

The transmission cut off.

"Mary! What's happening with the signal?" Andrew barked.

"Some kind of interference, sir! It's not jamming, but it's weak. We can try 300 meters east—the signal might be clearer there."

It was a risky option, but it was the only one.

"Team, we're moving out. Head east!" Andrew ordered.

Peter stepped forward, incredulous. "That's suicide! The horde could still be lurking!"

"And staying here means we get flanked—or the rebels find us at sunrise," Andrew shot back. "I'm not taking that chance."

"There's risk either way," Tanya interjected. "We wait for daylight, get a clearer picture, then move."

"And blow our cover? We can't afford that," Andrew replied sharply.

Tanya didn't argue further. She stepped back, lips pressed into a thin line.

Mikhail leaned toward her. "Say something."

"He's not going to listen right now. Pushing back just causes friction—we don't need that," she whispered.

Mikhail stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, the team's tired. Let's hold position for a while. We're not thinking straight."

Andrew paused, then nodded. "Fine. We'll hold here. Grab whatever ammo and supplies you can. Mary, you're with me—we'll scout east for a better signal."

"Yes, sir."

Peter muttered under his breath, "This isn't what I signed up for..."

Mikhail noticed Peter's pale face and approached. "You alright?"

"Do I look alright?" Peter snapped, pulling back his sleeve.

A nasty bite mark marred his shoulder.

Mikhail's face darkened. "That's bad. You need to tell someone."

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. That bite could kill you if untreated."

Tanya overheard and stepped in. "Peter? When did this happen?"

"During the village escape... after the tower exploded."

Tanya examined the wound. Her brow furrowed.

"This isn't good. The infection's progressing fast. It could be critical in 18 hours."

Peter gave a bitter laugh. "Well then... just put a bullet in me and get it over with."

"Don't joke," Tanya snapped. "This isn't like the movies. We can manage this—if we act fast."

She pulled out a syringe.

"Seriously? I hate needles."

"You'll hate dying more. Hold still."

She jabbed the injection into his opposite shoulder.

Peter winced. "T-thanks... Feels a little better. Though my arm's numb."

"Don't move it too much. I'll inform the lieutenant."

As she left, Mikhail patted Peter on the back. "Tough break. But you'll pull through."

"I hope so." Peter exhaled, steadying himself. "No point sulking. Let's see if we can salvage anything from the wreck."

"I'm with you."

0300 Hours

After resting and gathering supplies, Andrew regrouped his team.

"We're moving east. Four hundred meters out, there's a break in the interference. I scouted the area—no heat signatures, no signs of movement. We'll use the cover of night and elevated ground."

The squad was quiet.

"Questions?"

Tanya raised a hand. "Sir, it's too quiet. Could be a trap."

"We'll use the darkness to our advantage. We move fast and stay sharp."

No one else spoke.

"Alright. Let's go."

Before leaving, Andrew approached Peter. "Tanya briefed me. You good to move?"

Peter nodded. "Just a scratch, sir. I'm ready."

"Don't push yourself."

"I won't."

The squad moved cautiously into the jungle, the point man leading, rifle raised. Andrew and the rest followed close behind.

As they neared the treeline, the point man signaled a halt.

"Something out there?" Andrew whispered.

"I hear something... movement," the soldier replied.

He activated his thermal goggles. A glowing figure appeared ahead.

"Twenty meters—human heat signature."

"Friend or foe?" Andrew asked.

"Can't confirm. I'll check it out."

The point man crept forward. Just as he raised his rifle, a figure lunged and tackled him. The two wrestled on the ground, the stranger clawing at his weapon.

"Hostile! I'm pinned!" the point man yelled.

Andrew rushed in and yanked the attacker off—but was met with an elbow to the gut. The enemy backed away, eyes fierce.

"You're not with the Cornalian Defense Forces, are you?"

"If we were, what difference would it make?"

"This isn't your fight," the man said bitterly.

Andrew studied him. Tattered uniform. Unkempt hair. Dirt-caked skin. A rebel.

The point man raised his rifle, but Andrew held him back.

"Easy. We're not here to fight. We all want to survive."

The rebel lowered his hands. "Mercenaries?"

"That's right. What happened here?"

"The signal—after the second tower went down, the horde stopped responding to orders. They attacked everyone. My squad's gone. I'm all that's left."

"You say 'most' are gone. Are there survivors?"

"Maybe. We scattered during the chaos."

Before Andrew could respond, Mary's comms flared to life.

"This is Colonel Gray. Any allied forces in the vicinity, respond!"

Andrew snatched the radio. "Pathfinder here. LZ's compromised. We're seeking friendly contact."

"Negative, Pathfinder. The horde has overrun the sector. Containment units from the Oceanic Union of Fereldia are en route. What's your status?"

"One KIA. One wounded—Peter Foreman. Bitten by a Chaser. Sergeant Tanya administered an Andron Steroid shot. He's stable for now."

"Understood. Proceed to Delta-Green. I'll arrange an exfil team. Stay alive, Pathfinder."

The comms went dead.

The rest of the squad caught up, weapons raised at the rebel.

"Hold your fire!" Andrew ordered. "He's not a threat."

The rebel raised his hands. "I'm done fighting. I just want out of this nightmare."

Andrew narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I'll talk... but only if you guarantee me safe passage and immunity. I want protection. No bullets when I reach your base. Can you promise that?"