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The mercenary that stood with Samuel leapt across the alleyway as he fired and by the time he landed on the adjacent building the enemy elite was a rent corpse. The wargir began firing at another target on the other side of the building that the marine couldn’t see. When gunfire erupted downstairs, Samuel left the wargir to his fate and rushed to the levels below. As Samuel raced downstairs Ben continued to fire at more Helion troopers from the rooftop, doing his best to keep the hab-block from being overrun.

As the gunfire continued and Samuel finally reached the first floor, he was met with a savage engagement. Patrick was crouched behind a row of bullet riddled laundry machines as he exchanged fire with two Helion troopers. The body of a third lay midway between them and the marine’s position.

The armored body of the Helion elite who had escaped the horned wargir’s barrage was laying in the middle of the room bleeding from what must have been a tremendous amount of concentrated fire.

Bianca was bleeding from two ragged holes in her chest armor, but was heroically dragging Mag into cover. Samuel raised his rifle to his shoulder and emptied his magazine with disciplined precision as he walked down the remaining stairs one methodical step at a time. His first several rounds put a Helion trooper dead on the ground as more fire pushed the last trooper from his cover, then combined shots from Patrick and Samuel finished him off.

Samuel reloaded his combat rifle with detachment as his mind worked furiously to comprehend what he was seeing. He slung his rifle and said, “Patrick, you take over watch, I’ve got Kade.”

Samuel leaned over Mag and began working swiftly to address Bianca’s wounds. His med-kit appeared in his hands and he worked with a speed and precision that he’d never experienced before. He continued not looking at Mag and focused on his work as he spoke.

“When your heavy runs dry, Takeda, fall back to our first floor position,” he said as he dosed Bianca with the stim cocktail, removed the marine’s chest plate, and began addressing the ragged holes in her body, “There’s a rail rifle down there, take possession and you’ll still be effective as our heavy. We’re moving in five.”

Both marines tapped their com-beads in silent affirmation and Samuel finished his work on Bianca. The marine leaned against the wall and held her combat rifle across her lap as Samuel stood up and finally willed himself to look down at Mag.

The veteran’s body was a bloody mess, having been shredded by a flurry of projectiles from the Helion elite’s rail gun. It was likely that Bianca was in such a state of shock from being shot that she didn’t realize she was dragging a corpse to safety.

Ben pounded down the stairs, his empty heavy gun slung across his back, and stopped just short of the bottom when he saw Mag’s body. He and Samuel looked at each other for a silent moment before Ben nodded and walked over to the armored corpse of the Helion elite. As Ben stripped the rail gun from the elite’s dead hands and began to collect the projectile drums, Patrick set about looting the bodies of the other Helion troopers. Samuel recovered a single magazine from Mag’s body, which he slid into one of the empty holders on his thigh mount.

“That’s odd,” Patrick commented, “The ammunition on these Helion jokers is the same mil-spec as ours,” He ejected a magazine from one of the enemy rifles and investigated the bullet, “Oh, wow, even the same manufacturer, Fenrir Industries, just like us.”

“Why am I not surprised?” grumbled Ben as he stood up, continuing to tinker with the fittings on the gun, mimicking the movements he’d seen the wargir use to slot in the fresh projectile drum and prime it for firing.

“It makes sense, Fenrir Industries has no known interests in this system, even in this sector,” said Samuel in a low voice as he scanned the streets for enemy troopers, all of whom seemed to, thankfully, be engaged elsewhere in the colony, “So they’d see no conflict of interests in selling ammunition to both Helion and Grotto. It would just be another transaction in their books.”

“That’s grim, man,” said Ben as he joined Samuel in looking out into the street, “So what’s the plan, Boss?”

At the unexpected designation Samuel looked at Ben. The heavy gunner pointedly continued to look out at the street. Samuel looked back at Patrick, who stood on the other end of the small room. He nodded at Samuel as he chambered a round in his combat rifle. Samuel took a deep breath and leaned down to help Bianca to her feet, bracing her on his shoulder as she did her best to hold onto her combat rifle with her off hand.

“When I was on the roof I saw one of the wargirs, the one with the mini-gun, walking past what looked like a Helion machine gun nest. He’d already wasted everybody in it, but from where I was standing it looked stout, better than staying here,” Samuel said as he started moving toward the shattered back door of the hab-block. “It’s a hardpoint, with several guarded fields of fire and it gets us back into the fight.”

“Sounds good to me, Boss,” confirmed Patrick as he leaned out to quickly check the alleyway, then gave the all-clear signal, “I’ll take point.”

Patrick ducked out of the doorframe and into the alley, immediately putting his back to the wall of the opposite building so that he could sweep his rifle across both ends of the alley. The marine saw no sign of the enemy and signaled to his team that he was moving onwards.

Patrick double-timed it down the alley before skidding to a halt at the mouth of the next gap in the buildings. He noticed a squad of Helion troopers rushing past them on the street going in the other direction. At first he thought they were perhaps gearing up to assault the hab-block that Squad Taggart had been holding, but as the last trooper crossed his field of vision he saw the trooper turn and fire several rounds behind him before continuing on.

Samuel, Bianca, and Ben joined Patrick and they continued onwards, finally stacking up at the mouth of a small side street that opened up to face the gun nest. They were near the edge of the colony and could still hear the sounds of furious combat and the roar of speeders exploding through the valley.

“Patrick, hold here with Bianca,” said Samuel as he peered into the street to see that a group of Helion elites and troopers had occupied a squad building near the gun nest.

In the time since Samuel had seen the wargir slaughter the troopers in the nest, it looked as if another squad had taken the position. The two enemy positions were engaging a group of Reapers and at least one of the Folken elites in a shootout. It wasn’t looking good for the Grotto forces.

They had been pinned down between the burning wreckage of a combat speeder and the pulverized remnants of the original Helion perimeter wall. If the Helion forces managed to hold the building for much longer the rest of their forces would rally around them and possibly push the Grotto forces out of the colony. If they got pushed back into the open it would be a shooting gallery. Samuel could see that while plenty of combat speeders still circled the town, most of them had expended their onboard ammunition and had been reduced to simple transport vehicles until they had a chance to re-supply.

“Ben, we’ve got to rush the nest,” said Samuel darkly as he turned to face his friend, “If we can take the position fast enough we can possibly get in a few good hits before the troops in the building realize we’ve flanked them. Might help our guys push back and get a better fighting position.”

“Son of a bitch, Prybar, when you decide to step up you really go for it!” laughed Ben. He rotated his shoulder in expectation of the coming violence, “Lead the way, boss.”

Samuel observed their objective for a few seconds more, then gathered his legs underneath him and started sprinting towards the nest. The enemy had been using the mounted machine gun to keep the Grotto forces pinned down while their flanks were punished by the Helion forces in the building. Samuel knew that more Reapers were dying the longer he waited, but if he and Ben were shot down in a foolish charge it would serve no purpose.