"Soldier! Come in, Soldier. What's your status?" The radio on his shoulder broke into thick static.
"This is Private Hu*Static* *Static*nes of ground unite #522. W-we have 15 dead, 34 wounded & 8 missing. We're flanked on all sides, Sir. F173 of div*Static*on #E-707 has sustained moderate damage." He wheezed, hands shaking as crimson dripped from the soaked bandage on his leg.
A sudden, booming crash echoed in the distance. The radio channel was dead... only thick static replied to his frantic sputtering. The color slowly began to drain from his tan, sunburned face.
They were dead, they were so very dead. His mouth hung open slightly. He may have had one foot in the grave, but... No, not like this. A icy shiver ran right down his spine.
Tears stung the corners of his eyes as he surveyed the dim room around him, threatening to spill. Everyone was at their wits end, spirits broken. This was far too much far too soon. Why did I ever enlist? He thought, licking his lips nervously.
As he looked to the back of the room he realized F173 wasn't sitting at the worped table where they'd been repairing themself. The sniper rifle they carried was also gone.
"For fucks sake!" He hissed under his breath. He stood, a sharp jolt of pain surging through his left leg. "Damn that stubborn android!" He seethed through gritted teeth as he limped out of the room. A few medics tried to stop him, but he simply brushed them off.
He hobbled up a few levels of the abandoned office building. He regretted not asking someone to help him look for their comrade. His leg ached, barely able to stay on his feet. He leaned heavily against the railing for support. His lower back starting to ache with every painful jolt from his leg.
As he paused at the top of another flight of stairs he heard the telltale cu-click & thud of another empty clip hitting the floor. The sound coming from a dim room, thin rays of sunlight peeking into the corridor from the boarded up windows.
Of course F173 had some fight left in them. He sighed, exasperated. Stabilizing himself, he limps towards the doorway. The reckless abandoned & stubbornness of this fool was more then he needed to deal with right now.
"Private Jones." They addressed him, voice cold & monotone. Their gaze not leaving their weapon as they hurriedly worked. The young man crouching down at the door & shuffling over to them.
"What do you think your doing?! That's just a waist of ammo. We're more then outnumbered. Come back to the bunker, F173." He hissed, hating the sound of their id number.
"Negative. I am still functional, I can & will keep fighting." They replied, lining up the rifle to continue.
"Flare!" He barked, clearly pissed. "If they realize our position due to your shooting... we'll be screwed!"
The bot hesitated, not used to hearing the man's nickname for them when on duty. This human having been the first to treat them as a person rather then a machine. They won't admit it, but it makes them feel more... alive.
"I need to buy us more time. As long as I'm here a recovery party will be sent. But if nobody keeps them at bay an' they capture me..." They turned their head to face him. The soft amber glow of their eyes boring into him, worry & fear etched on their face. Their hands trembled as they gripped their weapon tighter. Clearly trying to stop it.
He stared back, frozen in shock. In the entire time he'd known this android they'd never once shown a single shred of emotion. But right here, right now they never looked more human. Just as terrified & desperate to survive as the rest of them. The situation taking more of a toll on them then expected. Damn, who could've expected they could be affected like this.
Placing a hand on their shaking one, fully sitting on the dusty floor now, he softly smiled up at them. He wanted to comfort them & settle his own nerves a bit too.
"Flare. I'm sorry I raised my voice. I- I know this is a lot of stress for you. Clearly it's overloading your systems a bit." His voice was low, much calmer then before. "Okay, a lot."
A small glint in the corner of his eye at the building directly across from them caught his attention. If he thought he knew terror before, he absolutely knew it now. He knew it like a semi truck plowing over a picket fence. Nothing's gonna make it ebb.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The unmistakable firing of another sniper rifle. An armour piercing round zipping between the plywood boards, aimed right for his personality chip. Lurching forwards, knocking them back. The sudden pain in the left side of his chest.
In 3 seconds, everything spiraled out of control.
The most bloodcurtailing shriek any of the soldiers have heard was ripped from Flare's voice box. Heavy boots are immediately heard racing up the stairs below.
But he couldn't hear any of that as blood rushed to his ears & he started to loose feeling in his body. A cold wave slowly washed over him. He could barely register what was happening. Red. So much red.
His consciousness slipping from him quickly, unable to keep his grip on it. Everything slowly turning fuzzy. Red everywhere. Everything turning, shifting & waving.
In a few moments, everything shifted to a silent inky black.
*SNAP*
Flare. Saw. Red!
ns 15.158.61.48da2
