Liberating Remant

Chapter 26 Unwanted Sacrifices

"Shut the fuck up, Ramirez... I hear something," Anderson urged, motioning for everyone to stay silent. They braced themselves for a potential ambush. The footsteps grew louder from their right.

"Movement on the right! Jack, investigate," Anderson commanded.

"Copy that," Jack acknowledged, cautiously moving toward the source of the movement behind a cluster of rocks. But before he could get a clear view, chaos erupted.

"Contact! Argh!!!" Daniel shouted, his voice cut off abruptly as a powerful kick knocked him out cold.

"Shit! Daniel's down. Where the hell is the bastard?!" In the midst of the chaos, an arrow is sent flying toward Ramirez.

"Mierda!!! I'm hit!!!" Ramirez shouts as Anderson quickly rushed to his side. Anderson noticed a figure coming up behind him and opened fire on the silhouette causing the figure to retreat behind the rocks.

"Jack! I've got you covered. Flank him from the left and put a goddamn hole in his chest!" Anderson barked, his voice filled with determination and urgency.

As Anderson provided cover fire, Jack swiftly maneuvered to flank the unknown assailant from the left, gripping his shotgun tight. But when he pulled the trigger, that bastard moved like a goddamn ghost, dodging the blast with a fucking dive. Before Jack could react, the son of a bitch struck him hard, knocking him out.

Anderson, now on high alert, sensed danger lurking in their shadows. His eyes scanned that shit, looking for any sign of movement. And out of fucking nowhere, some fucker jumped his ass, trying to take him down. But Anderson was trained to deal with shitfaces like him, and he switched to close-quarters combat in an instant. He fought like a madman, trading blows and using the shit around him to his advantage. With a well-aimed shot, he managed to wound that asshole, throwing him off balance.

Ramirez, shaking off the first blow, aimed his weapon at the other unknown bastard, ready to retaliate. But before he could do shit, another one sneaky motherfucker emerged from the darkness. Fast as fuck and hard to fucking see. That fucker landed a solid hit on Ramirez, dropping him like a sack of shit.

Anderson, in the heat of the fight, seized the opening. He tapped into that adrenaline rush and delivered a knockout punch straight to the face of the first assailant, sending that prick flying into a goddamn wall. Even Anderson himself was fucking shocked at the force he put behind that shit.

But the other motherfucker took advantage of the moment, launching a surprise attack. He fucking blindsided Anderson with a swift and calculated blow, causing him to stumble. Everything fucking blurred as darkness took over, and Anderson blacked the fuck out.

The survivors they were escorting suddenly realized their fuck-up and started shouting in disbelief, "Bloody hell! What the fuck have you done? They were on our side!" The weight of their mistake hit them like a ton of bricks. 

2035

Earth

Somewhere in Iran...

"Unidentified target, 200 meters, front," the gunner called out, his voice laced with disbelief. His fingers trembled on the trigger, gripped by an overwhelming sense of unease.

The female commander on the Stryker squinted, trying to make sense of the situation. The girl approaching them had blood on her forehead and held a basket. It was hard to comprehend what had happened to her.

"What in bloody hell happened to her?" the commander questioned, her voice filled with a mix of concern and confusion.

The SEAL captain, one of the experienced leaders among them, peered through the commander's periscope, his gaze fixed on the girl.

"Fire at the target," he muttered, his voice firm and resolute.

The gunner's hands trembled even more, his gaze shifting nervously between his comrades. Silence enveloped the Stryker as the weight of the captain's words settled in.

"But she's just a girl... What the hell are you saying?" the gunner protested, his voice filled with disbelief and horror.

"DO NOT FOLLOW THAT ORDER, POLOWSKI!!!" the commander screamed, rushing topside with a megaphone in her hand.

"(متوقف کردن!!!) STOP!!!" the commander yelled through the megaphone, her voice echoing in the tense air. However, the girl continued to advance, her tear-stained face etched with determination.

"Bloody hell! (متوقف کردن!!!) STOP!!!" the commander repeated, desperation evident in her voice. Yet, the girl remained undeterred, tears streaming down her face as she approached.

"Commander, we can't take any chances. This is hostile territory," the SEAL Lieutenant interjected, his gaze locked on the advancing girl. "It could be a trap, and our mission is to ensure the safety of our team and complete the objective."

The commander ignored his words and shouted to the gunner, "Fire warning shots!"

Complying reluctantly, the gunner fired several shots from the remote-controlled machine gun. The girl paused for a brief moment, but soon continued her approach.

"Target... 100 meters... Front," the gunner spoke solemnly. The SEAL Lieutenant swiftly relayed the situation through the radio.

"Command, where the bloody hell is that fuel?! We're exposed out here!"

A response crackled through the radio, "Fuel will arrive ETA 10 minutes. Why the fuck are you so impatient?! No enemy forces were spotted in the area."

"Sir... We have a situation... There's a bloodied girl approaching us with a basket. We've issued warnings and fired warning shots, but she's not stopping. Requesting permission to abandon the vehicle." The Lieutenant waited for a reply, but there was only silence. After a few agonizing seconds, a response finally came through.

"You have no permission to abandon the vehicle. Deal with the situation and protect your team," the voice over the radio retorted coldly.

"But, sir..."

"No buts! If you lose that vehicle, you'll have nothing to push through to Megarese. Fuel will be airdropped to you ETA 9 minutes. Out!"

The heavy silence weighed upon them all. Every soldier's gaze turned to their Lieutenant, seeking guidance. They knew what needed to be done, but none wanted to utter the words. Nobody envied their captain's agonizing position.

"Fire at the target... 70 meters... Front," the Lieutenant ordered, his voice strained with the weight of the decision. The gunner stared at him, a mixture of shock and disbelief in his eyes.

"Sir..."

"Fire it! Or I will..." The gunner and commander exchanged incredulous looks. The gunner rose from his position, frustration and moral conflict etched across his face.

"Fuck you, sir! You do it! I'm not the one dragged here to kill a kid." The gunner moved to the back, but the Lieutenant didn't stop him. He took the gunner's seat, his hands trembling as he aimed the Stryker's weapon at the young girl.

The commander's eyes pleaded with him, silently begging him not to go through with it. The Lieutenant closed his eyes, a mixture of sorrow and resignation washing over him.

*BOOM*

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